Depression is living a nightmare. It comes and goes. Sometimes it stays only a little while. Sometimes a longer while. Sometimes it stays for years.

I'm coming up on the one-year anniversary of the worst episode of depression I've ever had. It shows no signs of ending. And having struggled with this for over 30 years, there are plenty of episodes to choose from.

The nighttime is the worst. That's when the world is black and empty and there is nothing to be seen, only myself, only the reality of myself and all of the unforgivable weakness and inadequacy and failure that I represent.

The black hole at the center sucks up everything that once mattered and leaves nothing behind. I don't do anything anymore. I don't enjoy anything, I don't look forward to anything, I don't live. I try desperately not to think about anything because there is nothing, nothing at all out there. There is nothing inside, either. I thought I could fix it with therapy. I thought I could fix it with drugs. I thought I could turn it around. I was stupid enough to actually believe this.

The years go by and everything just gets worse. The pain won't ever get better. The pain likes things just fine where it is.