I wouldn't describe my depression like a black hole. It's terrible and lonely and I'm trapped, but it's not a black hole for me because I am still partially present in the world -- and people can partially see me. They don't see what I'd like them to see, and they can't reach me, and I can't reach them. But I'm partially present and partially visible. Others don't see how badly I want to engage with them like a gregarious, fun-loving social person; how badly I want to be happy; how badly I want to be able to laugh like them; how badly I want to connect and how badly I want to stop feeling so sad, and alone, alone, alone; how badly I want to tell people nice things and be loving. They see me, or part of me, and they think I prefer to be quiet and subdued and distant and reserved, when really I don't want to be this way, but I'm trapped and unable to break free of the sadness that weighs so heavily, that keeps me from laughing, that makes me unable to engage. So I often retreat to be alone, and maybe that's more like a black hole, but since I feel the worst when I'm around other people -- and partially visible to them -- I haven't really thought of my own experience as a black hole. I'm not doubting any body else's experience and I'm not criticizing the way anybody describes their own lived experience, of course. Just saying that I'd described my own experience a little bit differently.