Depression is an insidious thing. It’s manipulative and cunning. It saps you of everything you love, smothering the joy out of you. Its slow and patient. It’s not always huge fits of uncontrollable crying although there are plenty of those. Sometimes depression does not equal sadness, sometimes it’s just the death of motivation. And there’s so much anger because this is illogical and irrational but that doesn’t matter I can’t stop it and that just feeds it. Sometimes depression is a profound sense of apathy where literally nothing matters it’s a complete disconnect, absolute in its finality.