"Then there is this: in some way, the quiet terror of severe depression never entirely passes once you've experienced it. It hovers behind the scenes, placated temporarily by medication and renewed energy, waiting to slither back in, unnoticed by others. It sits in the space behind your eyes, making its presence felt even in those moments when other, lighter matters are at the forefront of your mind. It tugs at you, keeping you from ever being fully at ease. Worst of all, it honours no season and respects no calendar; it arrives precisely when it feels like it."
-
Daphne Merkin
“ and no one to tell us, now or ever,
why it ends, why
it always ends.
— Poetry 365: House of Shadows. Home of Simile, Eavan Boland
