Depression…has hands. Wild hands if I’m being completely honest. I could go toe to toe with almost everything else that hits me. Good ‘ol sadness, easy fight. Insomnia, manageable. Social awkwardness, that one lowkey has hands too but I been putting the works on it. I didn’t know just how solid the hands of depression were for a while however. I would normally cycle through phases of depression and always bounce back after a while. No matter how deep down I fell, I could find some way to drag myself out of it. None of my past experiences could have helped me with what happened though. It hit like….like a tackle from a football player in a game you weren’t participating it. One day I was fine and the next, an overwhelming emptiness hit me out of nowhere. I tried to do what I could to fend it off. Eat my favorite foods, hang out with the few friends I had who were still in the city, play games, but nothing worked. I would eventually find myself in my room, on my bed staring at the ceiling and this continued for an entire week. Any attempt at having a fun time felt empty. Any game played felt dull. Any food was bland. So I remained in bed, eating only out of habit, barely drinking water all while marinating in my own depression. I don’t have an exact measurement of how far down I went during that week but once I bounced back, I told myself that no matter what happened, even if I got clotheslined by depression once again, I wouldn’t allow myself to just sit and marinate in my own depression.