I'm rattled.

Depression isn't low self esteem, feeling down, difficulties, anxiety.

But apparently it seems to be.

Of course I retaliate.

Of course you don't know why.

It entails those things, they can be found within it.

Depression is darkness; clawing, gritty, heavy and stubborn. It prevails through weeks and months and years. It is Satan, it's a battle to the end. The battle is getting out of bed, sitting in the car, realizing that they just see you as an emotional teenager. It is always lying awake at 3, 4, 5 am. It's the attempt at getting off the floor. It's writing things down so you know that you have a purpose and that God was faithful last time.

But I am not explaining because I am angered that you got it confused.

I am explaining because I am angered that you failed to recognize it, address it, and you ignored it. You gave me a 'concerned' face and spooned my dinner onto my plate silently. You paid for my music addiction and the blankets on my bed and yelled when I did something that annoyed you, or got sick, again. You were probably caught up in your life and that's fair.

I told you I couldn't put one foot in front of the other and you told me that there were antidepressants for people like me.

Maybe I was too stubborn or maybe I knew my battle or maybe I just knew you.

I'm keeping this to myself, in the knot in the back of my throat, because at least you are recognizing now. At the very, very least. Because, good heavens, it couldn't be any more obvious.

But at a slightly-more-than-very-least level, you're getting it wrong.

I'll never, never be able to understand.