I dare not call it depression

When I can't breathe because there is something so heavy pressing on my chest that it aches and screams, when something is clawing at my throat, blocking the air, blocking the words. I dare not call it depression.

I call it a dark pit that I fell into, a dark pit I can't seem to get out of, but I dare not call it depression.

When I cannot make it out of bed because I just can't face the world anymore, I dare not call it depression.
When smoking is the only self harm I am brave enough to do, when imagining my lungs burning with every drag I take feels satisfying, I dare not call it depression.

When everything that used to make me feel happy and limitless makes me feel blank, like a car ride, or a night walk, or looking at the sky. In fact, I don't even look at the sky anymore. I still dare not call it depression.

When the light in my eyes is dimmed, when the light goes out altogether. I still dare not call it depression.

When I fail to bring back any healthy habit I once had because what's the point anyway? I dare not call it depression.

When I break down 3 times in a row because I just can't take it anymore, I can't take being here, I can't take staying. I dare not call it depression.

When I can't stop thinking about the peaceful silence that will follow my last heartbeat, my last breath, I dare not call it depression.

I dare not call it depression, because I know that somewhere someone is having it worse and they dare not call it depression, so how dare I?

I dare not call it depression because I felt okay for 2 hours that day.

I dare not call it depression because I am scared.
I dare not call it depression because I am fucking scared.