Depression to me feels like I am walking uphill through a dense fog, while wrapped in thick blankets from head to toe, with heavy weights strapped to my shoulders and legs. My senses are dulled, and every move I make requires tremendous effort. All of those things are physically welded into me, down to the bone, and I can't just choose to take them off any more than I could simply unattach random body parts when they're in the way. Others around me are living their daily lives in the sunshine, running here and there, doing everything they need to do. They can't see the things that encumber me, so they don't understand why I'm having trouble moving my butt and getting things done. Then they start judging me, calling me lazy. When I tell them about the weights and the fog and the blankets, they answer that I must like suffering or else I'd just put them down and go on.