I’m Not Lying When I Tell You Nothing’s Wrong

At least, not in the way you mean it

I thought I was done writing about my own mental health. I should’ve known better. I won’t pretend I ever genuinely believed I would never again slip into a depressive state, but it was at least a nice thought; that I had somehow resolved the chemical imbalances governing my mind through simple creative expression or willpower. It has been, after all, years since I last felt as ugly as I do now.