Eating grapes in the dark

Depression is so intangible, abstract, elusive and vague. We can not see it because it is the darkness. We can only see things in the presence of light. It is a silent, invisible killer. Its relentlessness makes persistence look weak. It doesn’t care how strong of a fighter you are. It will come back every time, after every battle, to win. What’s kept me alive is how I’ve kept a small portion of myself separate from the illness. I let it come, consume me and pass. I pretend as if I’m handing over my entire self to depression, so it thinks it has all of me to feed on. But there’s always this little part of me I keep hidden away. And every time it returns, the amount of myself I hand over gets smaller and smaller, until one day I (hopefully) look in the mirror and see myself as 100% me. If I’m going to have depression, I want to have it. I don’t want it to have me, nor do I want to be it. There is a difference among these. In the meantime, I’ll just continue sitting on the floor of my room, alone, eating grapes in the dark.