Depression does not have a face; though, one can say that it certainly has a look.

You know when your friends ask you to come hang out during the weekend and the small feeling says you shouldn’t but you do anyway because you don’t want to disappoint them? And as the week goes on, that small feeling grows and that fun weekend looms over you like a giant cloud of dread? And, the day comes but you just can’t force yourself to go out, so instead you bail on friends (for the third time) and you know that you’ve disappointed them and yourself? And this makes that once small feeling swallow up your soul, leaving you with guilt and regret? That is depression.

You know when you lay in bed and you just feel “it” coming on? But you tell yourself “not this time, stop it before it gets too late” and try hard to be productive? Yet the clock is ticking, the day is turning to night, you find dust on your ever still body that has yet to leave these sheets? And you told yourself “I won’t let it get bad again” and “I have work to do, I have to get up” but you lay in these sheets with the whole day behind you? So you wait for morning to try all over again but you know it’s just going to be a repeat of today and that thought makes you want to hide in your bed forever? That’s depression.

You ever have those days that just blur together like a mesh of fuzzy pictures? From the time you get up, to when you get dress, put on your makeup, go to class, go to lunch with friends, go to work, go home to study, hang out with friends, eat something (if you can even remember), do homework, shower, and go back to bed, it’s just one long montage of grey? And you are so out of it, you can’t even conjure up a response to people when they talk to you because you are on autopilot almost every second of the day; that the only things that makes sense to you is going back to sleep so you don’t have to be a part of this world, this place where you just feel out of place? That is depression

It's not remembering to eat. It’s not looking into mirrors for days on end because it doesn’t matter. It’s forgetting to call your mom, even when you desperately need her. It’s lashing out on others because you need the silence and they aren’t helping. It’s erasing the text to tell them what’s going on, to ask for help. It’s letting the dark surround you because time is going and you don’t even notice it anymore. It’s crying in the bed you just can’t find the strength to get out of.

It's “No, I’m fine, honestly, I’m just a little tired."

Depression is a fog. It isn’t always heavy, it goes in and out. Sometimes it’s kind of clear and you can see the sun come through. Going out with friends is actually fun, you start talking with your mom, you look forward to brunch with your staff, you re-watch the entire third season of OITNB, your makeup looks great, you take a bunch of selfies, you sing, you fall in love, and you’re just alive. And sometimes it’s thick as smoke, the fog is absolutely suffocating. And the face in the mirror is empty, the alcohol comes in floods (even more ever since you turned 21), all you do is sleep, you avoid everyone, and you can’t remember the last time you showered, ate, or stopped crying alone at night. Most of the time, you wonder if all of this will end; and you’re hoping it’d be sooner than later, even if by your own hands.

Depression isn’t saved for the hipsters on Tumblr because it isn’t just some pretty black and white photo, with a shitty saying from some half-baked poet, that’s been reblogged a billion times. It’s a face in the crowd, trying their best until the sun peeks out from the fog once again. And until it comes, they’ll take each day step by step, slowly but surely living for another day.