Depression does not always look like a pathetic pile of a person in bed, paralyzed.
Depression looks like my house, messy.
Depression doesn't limit itself by appearing the same way all of the time either, it as a whole wardrobe of of get ups to try on.
Depression, wants me to curl up with it in bed under the cover and sleep. Depression is not a good bedfellow. No matter what it says.
Depression makes me cold. Cold to my bones. So cold that nothing can warm me. So cold.
Depression makes my head ache.
Depression is a sneaky cheating bastard. It makes me think that it has eyes for only me, but really is off visiting others, not that I would wish this visitor on anyone.