What is depression?

A/N- Do I even need to post a trigger warning given the title?

What is depression?
I always wondered if my depression was something in my head,
Made up of imagination that escalated sadness,
Fed by the need to special,
A narcissistic production,
Of too much information,
Mixed with the inability to maintain distance.
Even when doctors validated my claims,
And put me on medicines for the same,
I kept wondering if my depression was something I made up,
“In my head”
“Attention-seeker”.
“You just want to pretend.”
“You have everything, why would you be depressed?”
Yesterday, Mother, I realized, yes I am depressed,
As I faced what really is depression.
Depression is getting an award and feeling empty,
Depression is stopping mid-laugh as the switch flips,
And suddenly nothing is funny,
And you are emotionless.
It’s anxious ramblings,
And eating dinner quietly,
Forgetting you haven’t smiled in more than fifty-two weeks,
That’s a year by the way.
Depression isn’t eternal sadness,
It’s laughing one moment and being numb the next,
Or sobbing without reason,
Thinking it’s best if everything ends.
It’s going through your day like a machine.
Dinner is sitting at the table,
Watching TV,
And suddenly you are crying,
You are sobbing,
Itching for a blade,
For life is no longer worth living.
It is pounding pills,
And churning poetry,
It is exhaustion,
That travels from the brain to the bones,
Till you collapse,
feeling alone,
And being unable to enjoy the craved for solitude,
As everything drains you,
Even you.