The weirdest thing about depression is the sensation of feeling like I'm floating.
I always thought it would make me feel as if I was drowning, like I had no hope or possibility of a better life. I never expected something so dark to make me feel buoyant.
I feel like a shadow, a ghost. Even though I know that's pure fiction, sometimes it feels like that’s all I’ll ever be.
Sometimes everyone passes me by like I’m not actually there. I feel like a mat on the ground that people trample over.
As much as I want to scream at myself that this feeling isn’t true, my depression usually wins.
My mental illness is the only thing that acknowledges that I exist sometimes, and it makes that existence hell.
Day in and day out, my depression is all that I can think about. I float on a sea of darkness that's constantly trying to sweep me away from the rest of humanity.
I’m surrounded by a barrier that I can’t break through.
I watch storms come and go, trying desperately not to drown. If people try to help me, depression pushes me in the opposite direction.
“They’re not here for you,” it says, “they don’t care enough.”
I know that’s not true, but I float on away anyway, convinced that I don't matter.
I know that I exist, that I’m more than debris drifting along the ocean, but my depression is louder than that certainty.
And according to my depression, I don’t exist. So until I shake this demon off my shoulders, it must be true.
Want more of Ali? Like her on Facebook for more great content and to connect with the writer behind this piece!