Anyone who has actually been that sad can tell you that there's nothing beautiful or literary or mysterious about depression.

I will be stronger than my sadness.

Maybe we all have darkness inside of us and some of us are better at dealing with it than others.

He was fucking sad. That's it. That's the point. He knows life is never going to get any different for him. That there's no fixing him. It's always going to be the same monotonous depressing bullshit. Boring, sad, boring, sad. He just wants it to be over.

I wonder if that's how darkness wins, by convincing us to trap it inside ourselves, instead of emptying it out.
I don't want it to win.

Sometimes I wonder if my heart is like a black hole--it's so dense that there's no room for light, but that doesn't mean it can't still suck me in.