This week-I'm going to kick your arse.
Depression, you have taken too many years from me, reduced me to a shell, a puppet, smiling though I'm empty inside. You've hidden, deep away, for months, then returned with a vengeance, slapping my self control round the face and whispering bitter insults into my mind. You've tried to destroy anything good, everything good, til my Husband came along, stronger than you, and my friends, you cannot ruin my friends. Because, and hear this, they know what your up to. They know exactly what you're trying to do, and they said no.
And I say no.
So pills and sunshine, fighting your exhaustion and rationalising your irrational. Ice cream, hugs, and loving arms. These are my weapons. And depression? Believe me.
I will win. For I am never alone.