If you’ve never done battle with the dragon of depression,
then you might think that just the right sword will do the trick.

If you’ve never felt the dark cloud descending over your entire being,
then you might think it’s possible for someone else to walk in and turn on the light.

If you’ve never felt the thick gray fog hanging over you, following you all day and night,
then you might think it’s possible for friendship, hugs, support to lift the haze.

If you’ve never felt the pressure of pure sadness pushing down upon your chest,
then you might think that the right words, the right movements, the right pills, will lighten the load.

If you’ve never felt the thickness all around your heart spreading through your body, heavy in your veins, holding you down,
then you might think it’s possible to pick up a phone, make a call, and begin to fix things.

If you’ve never been drowning in a swirling sea of hopelessness,
then you might think it’s possible for the right combination of caring and conversation to turn the tide.

If you’ve never been down so deep in a dungeon of desperation that you see absolutely no way back up,
then you might think it’s possible to use logic and proportion to build a ladder, one small step at a time.

If you’ve never been so close to the edge that you could very clearly see the absolute end of it all,
then you might think there’s always a way to turn back.

But if you have stood, paralyzed, staring into the abyss for months on end,
if you have known the feeling of unsatisfying breath after torturous breath,
if you have been weighted down and nearly drowned,
gasping for air,
pinned to the ocean floor,
even for a moment,
then you must know,

you must know that sometimes,
and for some people,
this is the only way.
Sometimes, the dragon consumes them.
Sometimes the dragon becomes them.
Sometimes, the dragon wins.