I wouldn’t say I battle with Depression.
It’s more like laying down on the ground and ignoring the constant kicks to the ribs and the face.
The battle’s over. The war is lost.
The occupation regime is firmly in place and in control.
It’s the baseline hum in the signal.
I accept its constant presence.
There’s no wonder or discovery to it. No testing my boundaries.
It’s not like you put your hand on the stove.
Turn it on, and see how long you can leave your hand on there before you pull it back.
Not like that at all.