Depression

- The secret we all share. Everyone will experience it at some point, may it be hidden or
shown. To try and put this complex feeling into words, there is a sort of constriction in
your heart, as if there is something gripping it, preventing you from doing everything;
even the easiest movements feel a waste to do. Moreover, there is a motley of inner
voices swirling around your head, whispering you to do things you otherwise wouldn’t
even have considered. Lastly, there is a strong desire to cease everything that you
experience, to end it with a lasso or a bullet in the head—all-too-grotesque yet quite true.
Grief
- It is a sorrow deeply embedded within the person. If someone who died was perhaps your
best friend, a lover, a parent, with whom your relationship was thicker than the blood you
shared—then their death was a manifestation of the crumbling of the world. None of the
food or drink you seem to taste; none of the world’s vast supply of amazements you
enjoy; none of the regard for your life stays. For weeks, months, years even, you will still
be haunted by the (normal, of course) painful thoughts of your everything, that is, your
best friend, disappearing, but also the glaring thought of your mortality.
Sorrow
- There is a strange stop when it comes to sorrow. It is as if the news was too unbearable,
too painful, that the brain shuts off in order to prevent a breakdown from occurring.
Immediately, however, tears start to stream from your eyes unbeknownst to you, and
bodily functions start to wobble, then, at last, give up due to the immeasurable strain you
are experiencing within you. A void opens within your existence, which will not be filled
until proper recuperation is observed—that is, days or weeks offered solely for rest and
acceptance of whatever news it is.
Cheerlessness
- The world fades into duller and duller colors until all that remains are the movie scenes
inside 20th century films. There is a sort of boredom with the world, not in the sense of
you wanting to escape from it, as in depression, but in the sense that you are sterilized,
nay, that the world is sterilized, anesthetized, removing the sense of joy and fascination
you once sought from this weird thing called life. Your senses, too, may be dulled but not
as much would occur during sorrow, grief and depression.