It’s an impossible thing to describe. Everyone does it, but most people don’t depend on a little green pill to hold up the debris of their smile. It’s not a feeling. It’s not a phase that everyone goes through. It’s an amplified occurrence. It’s an awful little demon with a wry smile that whispers deafening pessimism into your vulnerable mind.

It curls up with your dreams at night and sings you to sleep. The sound of it’s voice is a haunting thing, and the nightmares that traveled through your brain during the night stay with you when you flap open tired lids. It clings to your eyes as they shift from person to place to object. Everything has a label. People are judging you. Objects strike envious nerves like a calloused finger plucks the string of a guitar. Places seem to be unfitting and more than you think you deserve.

At least that’s what the demon convinces you.

This metaphorical fiend flows like a thick cloud in your brain and traps happy thoughts like caged birds. It gnaws at everything that makes you laugh. Everything is darker, even the sun. The moon and stars are no longer beautiful but a reminder of a temporary existence.

Nobody sees this demon but you. That’s the worst part. He’s all a part of a chemical in your brain, but how are they to see that? They can only see the eyes that the nightmares made swollen and the furrowed brows and silent lips. They begin to judge you, but how would you know the difference? As far as you know you’ve been judged your whole life.

Having a brain like this is like when you stare into the sun, and the rays are so bright you have to squint so it doesn’t burn your eyes and your mouth contorts as your cheek muscles lift. That’s all your emotions are: a reflex. You’re not in control of your own feelings; it’s all impulse as the demon eats away at your every nerve.