Depression is an ugly thing.

It lurks in shadows, hiding behind closed doors and veiled smiles. It lies in bed with you saying there’s no reason to bother getting up today. It shows you how little you’ve accomplished. It tears away at your insides, shredding every particle of joy you dare to have to pieces.

Every movie you love no longer holds your interest. Your favorite books sit on shelves, untouched. Your phone remains answered. The shower that could wash it all away is too much trouble. Music is silenced as depression grows louder.

And louder still.

Until the world is no longer in color, and even black and white have faded until there’s nothing left.

Only shades of grey.