My greatest fear is depression. Not like the shallow, surface-level sulking that you feel on a bad day--I mean bone-deep, full-on depression. The helplessness of having given up scares me more than anything.

If depression were a tangible creature, it would be a smallish, grey blob. It would have a bald head with all the normal features of a human face, except empty sockets would replace the normal human eyes. The mouth would be slightly open in the shape of a moan. This creature would have limbs and other extremities like a human, but its skin would be rubbery and entirely the same shade of grey. Its body would be perpetually in a fetal position, with arms hugging legs. It would be rocking back and forth, uncontrollably, and every few seconds it would wail an unearthly, chilling, groan--a noise that makes you stop where you are and gasp for breath.