The worst is when you want to write, know what to work on, have time to write, and are too depressed to move. That’s the hell I’m burning in.
Writer wants to write, but writer’s depression doesn’t care. Writer isn’t blocked, so much as they are drained. Countless words and ideas on the top of their tongue and they can’t speak. Their pen rests on their desk, useless. If writer does not write, are they useless? Was writer wrong to allow depression to be a thief, to steal their love, their job, and their joy? Should writer try to fight, reclaim their humanity, even if it’s just to finish a sentence, or should they concede?