My depression is a small, stumpy, grumpy, goblin-like creature that sits on my shoulder. He’s dark blue with light green eyes and a raspy voice. He’s small, but he is a weight that I have trouble carrying. He does pull-ups from my shoulders or sits on my neck and sometimes does jumping-jacks. It almost feels like he bought P90x or TaeBo tapes and is trying them out on my muscles.
My depression yells insecurities and negative thoughts at me like a drill sergeant trying to motivate his lowers to do better; except not. My depression doesn’t want me to be better, he doesn’t want to motivate me. He wants to break me. He wants to hydrate himself with my tears. He tells me there’s no way to get rid of him and he’s wiped my mind of anything good about myself or my life and has only left the negatives.