Depression is baby wipe washes.
And mouthwash teeth cleaning.
Scraped back, week old, unwashed hair.
That you slept in.
Plenty of body spray.
A practiced fake smile.
Steely determination to face everyone.
Trying to grasp at the day.
As it passes in a daze.
Clasping at moments.
Screaming to find the smallest slither of emotion.
All while seeming approachable and friendly.
Engaged and present.
While you over analyse a social interaction you completely screwed up 2 weeks ago.
Mechanically going through the day.
Laughing when needed.
Agreeing when appropriate.
Desperate to find something real.
Swallowing down food with no taste.
Realising you’re on auto mode.
But you weren’t aware.
Urging yourself to find energy enough.
To show your siblings you honestly really do love them.
You really do want to hear about school and their favourite toy.
But instead just signing out.
Because you adore them.
But you just want to sleep.
Going through the motions.
Knowing later on all of the terrible interactions.
And lack of interest you’ve shown in people.
Will come creeping into your mind at night.