I was sad and severely hurt, even angry, but depressed? I'd always told myself that it would pass. There had been good days. Good days, but never easy ones. Even now, some days were more manageable than others. Some hours, some seconds, I could handle, and the next, I wanted to let the world swallow me up. There were days where I couldn't breathe, couldn't move, couldn't think. I'd been depressed. I still was.