Living with depression. It is like a mosquito that feels as though it is permanently suctioned to your skin. Pulling, sucking the life out of you slowly with every passing day. The worst part is no one sees it. You keep it hidden, because who wants to watch an obnoxious, blood-sucking bug feed on you like the remains of an animal on the side of the road? It is not pretty, it is not romantic. It hurts, as you watch your friends and your family gently pulling away because they no longer know how to help, or they just do not want to. To them, whatever it is you’re going through must have been your fault, there is no other explanation. And that is the thing; your head is full of these terrible things you think about yourself, and about life, that no sane person could even allow to drip from their lips like poison. You are constantly being told that it is all in your head so maybe, just maybe you can make it disappear. Hopefully, though, you get the courage, and encouragement, to rip the burden from your body because no, you are not the burden. Your disease is the burden and you no longer want to carry it.