I wish the symptoms of depression looked cooler. Like what if every time my serotonin levels plummeted, I would grow wings and gain fire-breathing abilities? I could fly around setting villages ablaze, until I felt functional again.

What I’m saying is, when I lock myself in my bedroom for days at a time, people who care about me just give me time and space (which is what I want). But, if I became a fire-breathing dragon, people would definitely take an interest in what was going on and spark up some lively conversation. I also suspect that, if depression resulted in deadly shape-shifting, friends and family would do everything in their power to keep that monster at bay.

Sadly, depression (as it is) is only a monster within the brains of those who have it. Perhaps, the key is to fill one’s village with skilled dragon-slayers.


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