My depression is a tidal wave.

It is widespread and overwhelming.

My depression may not look like your typical depression. It may not look like a commercial on TV. I may not read off like a list of generic symptoms. You may not always know what to expect from me -- and I'm not sorry about it.

My depression looks like spending all day in my bed, even though I'm not tired. It looks like eating way too much pizza, even when I'm not hungry. It looks like going back and checking the pantry, again and again, even though I just ate. It looks like being stressed about my classes, even though I'm already ahead in all of them. It looks like not texting anyone back, even though I promise I'm genuinely interested in what you're saying.

My depression looks like going out and dancing with my friends. It looks like I'm having a blast and living my life to the fullest. It looks like a social butterfly who cannot wait to meet new people. It looks like texting my best friends all day everyday and not missing a chance to catch up.

My depression is like a tidal wave. Quick to come and wipe away all the strength I've spent my time building up. Quick to bring back the pain, sadness, confusion, and emptiness. But like any tidal wave, there is a point of receding.

Like any tidal wave, eventually the beaches clear and the sands dry.

My depression may be a tidal wave, but I've been surfing my whole life.