Depression is a strange mistress. You can push her away, distract yourself, but then someone says a turn of phrase. You return home, alone, the lights off and the darkness consuming. You read the right book, or watch the wrong movie. Her arms wrap around you and you’re reminded she hasn’t moved on, she hasn’t left or abandoned you when it feels like everyone else has. You may allow her cold administrations without a fight. You may struggle, beg her to leave until you’re in tears. But she is dominating and she knows you better than anyone, and in time you succumb. Even in the happiest of moments, you succumb. Because Depression is a strange mistress.