By Adam J. Pearson
Depression is interesting. Slowly, it creeps into your life, like gas creeping into a room from a broken gas pipe, toxically poisoning you in silence. Gradually, things you once found fascinating cease to garner your interest. Your thoughts move more slowly, your feelings drift between a lingering sadness that you cannot talk yourself out of and a total numbness. The numb space feels like a vast and empty void within you.
Colours seem duller, tastes are subdued, sounds almost appear muffled. What excites others fails to move you. You trudge through life like a cog in a machine, just following routine. Or you stay in bed all day and watch your life crumble around you like an ancient and decaying house. Those with lives consumed by the dull mouth of depression, they are the true living dead. They live and move, but they do not feel alive. Sometimes, they do not feel at all.