I've had depression since I can remember. The schedule was pretty regular - I would suffer bouts of depression lasting two years, then I'd get a break for a year, then two more years, etc. Eventually, since I was depressed more often than not, it started to feel 'wrong' when I wasn't depressed. Depression was like a comfortable buffer that shielded me from all of life's problems behind an impenetrable curtain of nihilism. Depression was deeply ingrained in my personality - my humor, my speech, my thoughts and even my vision were colored by it. I was depression, and depression was me.

So eventually, a time came when the depression didn't come back. At least, not nearly as fully as it had before. It was as if a crucial part of my existence had been stolen from me. I no longer had its comfortable shield to protect me from the responsibility of emotion. My reality would never be the way that it was when I was depressed, I no longer see the world in shades of blue and gray, and I miss that - and it - like I would miss a dear friend.

Is that odd?