Death isn’t a joke. Cutting yourself isn’t a joke. Depression isn’t a joke. To me, depression is the same as a form of desease or disability. It’s something people try to avoid conversation about but when it is brought up, it’s usually brought up by a cold hearted idiot with no respect for anyone but themself. People who are depressed know that they are loved, they know that they are relevant. It’s just this feeling that you can’t help but having that it’s not real love. But when you’re depressed, love isn’t important. Your mind blocks out anyone that loves you more than you can ever imagine and you feel more alone than ever.

You don’t commit suicide because you’re sad. You don’t commit suicide because everyone hates you and you hate yourself. You commit suicide because all you have is your mind left. Everyone around you becomes harder and harder to care about when your mind is telling you that they don’t care about you. Depression eats up your spirit. It devoures your mind, thought for thought and makes you believe that there is no other way out than death. Death has never sounded more beautiful to anyone than a depressed person.

No one is ever 100% happy and that is a fact. There is always a part of someone that is lost in their own head, or a part of their mind and soul that is being replaced by sadness. There is no way out. There’s no cure to depression other than feeling loved. There’s no way to happiness unless you have something to be happy about. It’s as simple as that. It’s not your choice to be depressed. It’s not fun to be upset about all that is good and pure around you. Suicide is your mind forcing you to take your life away far too early. Deppresion is not a choice.