There’s a fungus that infects ants. When the ant eats the fungus, it takes over the ant’s brain and body. It makes the ant go to the tallest blade of grass it can find. It makes the ant leave the safety of it's nest. Leave the security of the other ants. Ignore all desire for food or drink. All that matters is getting to the top of the blade of grass. And then the fungus kills it there. This is depression. Depression is living with a brain that, a lot of the time, isn't your own. Your brain will make you know things about yourself, horrible things that become hard to live with. Your brain will cut off everything a person needs for emotional survival; any kind of happiness, pleasure or joy will be stripped from you. It will become physically difficult to move, impossible to ask for help, and you'll make decisions that, in hindsight, made no sense other than to make your life actively worse.

This is what happens when you're single. When you're living alone with depression. Now add another person to that. A person who loves you, who tells you that they love you. A person who supports you when you’re feeling worthless. Sounds like an improvement right? Sounds like it could really help. Wrong. Your depression will use this person against you in every way it can conceive of. It will convince you that the love of your life is with you for absolutely any other reason except love. They’re only with you for your money, for your body, for the convenience of a dual income household, for the kids, for the dog, or because it’s just too fucking difficult to break up. You will know from the bottom of your heart that they don’t and can’t love you. No one possibly could. And then you’ll start to push them away. You’ll tell them they’re better off without you. You’ll convince them that you hate them, even as it’s breaking your own heart in two to say it. You’ll find a way to rationalise the destruction of your relationship with them, because your depression will tell you that you don’t deserve them, that they’d be happier without you. It’s a method of emotional self-harm. No one can see the scars, but it will hurt you more than any knife ever could.