Depression, what really is it? Do I know what it is, do I really? I'm not depressed, I'm productive, work, gym, friends, music, coffee, shopping. I do so much to use up this little free time before I start that great night shift. Everyday every week, I'm not tired. I'm living, that is what I'm supposed to be doing right? I'm supposed to be living, I'm young, I'm naive. Oh this is just the first time, there will be many more... Well what if I don't even know if I'll survive the first? Oh shut up, you're fine. Don't you remember acouple hours ago? You were cracking up about something dumb, like usual, and you were happy. You're not depressed. You're not depressed now, you weren't depressed then. What is depression? Is depression not being able to sleep without having dreams that make you cringe on how much you hate this change, you're not good enough, you were never good enough, you never will be good enough. No, they are just dreams, don't get yourself so worked up about something that isn't real. But it is real, I lived it, is this just how I'm always going to feel? I guess I'm in a cycle, I have been sent back to middle school. When I thought I was "depressed", I wasn't depressed. I got picked on, boohoo, that's no big deal. You have been through worse to let words mess you up, how could you ever let words hurt you, how could words make you hurt yourself? You weren't depressed. You're still not depressed. Am I? Who am I? I don't even know anymore. Will I ever know again? I guess I'm starting from scratch.