Depression is like a thick, dense fog that doesn’t just follow you around. It surrounds you. You’re in it and it’s pitch black. I’m talking pitch black like the sky out in the bush away from the city light. But unlike the sky it’s like you’re drowning, both legs chained to iron balls. You’ve been treading for so long, grasping for anything that floats by. You’re white knuckling it, trying to hold on for your life because you don’t want to hurt your loved ones by letting go. You’re exhausted. You so desperately need it to end. You need relief, and yet you are lost, alone, head barely above the surface in a sea of darkness. There’s no way out, no way through. There’s just no other way.