Living through depression

In living with Depression, I must say that the hard-hitting part is 
When it all stops mattering, 
The instant you run out of craps to give.
Your grades, your studies, your workouts, your routines, your perfectionism,
It all turns to dust you become too weak to sweep.
And, 
They don’t get it,
No one gets it.
Because, what makes you stop, makes you start?
How can you just, 
Give up?
Your feet suddenly stop walking on a busy street,
Your heart runs solely on pain,
All the while you’re yelling for it to end,
But your mind too is screaming, for you to end it.
I sometimes wonder if it is just me who feels this… 
Growing hatred that birthed in my guts,
Or this black hole consuming my organs,
The darkness devouring the life that once inhabited me. 
And I say this to you with so much ease,
But then I am left speechless when meeting with my psychiatrist. 
Those who do not suffer from depression, cannot grasp how mind blowing it is;
How depression first, creeps onto you slowly,
Nagging you through little tasks and mere encounters, 
But surely, it turns into a monster eating whoever you used to be 
Up,
And ironically, it ends up a friend.
It becomes a familiar companion, although uninvited,
Kind of like your third angel squeezing your heart tugging and your heart strings. 
I want to find the right words, the exact metaphors, to convey how deeply it stings and how intimately it destroys you,
For I am too often left with unexplained pain I must sort through,
Shit I should deal with,
Duties I don’t care to attend to,
Living a life, I am no longer engaged in.
You’re asked to be here, be present
“Where is your mind? Where are you at?”
So many questions
While you vainly attempt
To remember what alive feels like.
We’re just kids; yet we fight invisible demons, memories of trauma, abusive minds. 
No one grasps the cruelty of our thoughts,
And none want to hear about the suicides we play again, and again, and again 
In our heads.
The craving to self-destruct. 
I am not the only one to struggle with this,
And that’s the only relief I get.
Ultimately, 
It does get better,
But it’s no thanks to you.
For we fought and we won, our own wars