“If you could read my mind, you wouldn’t be smiling.”

-Tamara Ireland Stone

I saw the sun today. I saw the clear blue skies. I did not care. The world is not beautiful anymore.

I haven’t been doing well. That has been apparent for months now. I am not getting better. I am tiring. Life is losing its sparkle, and it’s fading faster now. I am not used to depressive episodes of this length. The growing intensity is wearing me down. I don’t want to see people anymore. I don’t like talking with most people. I would rather be alone. My walls are starting to crack. My coping skills are lacking. My energy is non-existent. My mind is drifting off to other places. Blue places. Black places. Cold places. Empty places. The world is not beautiful anymore.

Part of me is afraid. And part of me is satisfied by the lack of warmth, by the emptiness. I am afraid of what could happen, of who I might become. Happiness has no pull on me. It is not something that depressed Trevor wants. Depressed Trevor feels guilty when he’s happy. Depressed Trevor sees beauty in being alone. Depressed Trevor wants to pull away from everything, to be lost in his own mind. The world is not beautiful anymore.

My daily life is hazy. I go through the motions, but the motions are getting tiresome and stressful. I don’t feel strong right now. I feel no strength at all. I feel weak and vulnerable. Like all my defences have collapsed, leaving me to be picked off by some shadowy bird of prey. The world is not beautiful anymore.

My individual defences are crumbling. But I have all the help I need. I’ve always known that I can’t make it on my own. It can be difficult to lean on others when you feel like isolating yourself from the world. But there is no other way. If I need to be carried by family, friends, doctors, prayers, then so be it. Because somewhere deep down I know one thing. I know the world is beautiful. And I will be able to see it again in time.