My depression is like a siren singing to me, tempting me to drown in the sea, trying to smash me on the rocks.
My depression is like London Victorian fog, swirling its tendrils around me, blurring my surroundings from me, blanking out the hansom cabs and horses hooves.
My depression is like snow, blanketing the Earth, quitening it. It is snowing all over England. It is snowing all over the world.
My depression is like swimming underwater, seaweed wrapping itself around my legs, trying to drag me to the depths.
My depression paralyses me in mud. I am up to my neck. I am just a head in a Theatre of the Absurd play.
My depression whispers of the past to me, it repeats nasty phrases and old hurts. It pulls me into the dark of what has been.
My depression is a bully and a bitch, always trying to put me down, reduce me.
But today is sunshine.
I will not let you win depression. I am better than you. I will trample you. You shall have no dominion over me. Get behind me.