I've struggled with depression on and off for the past 5 years, and this is the best explanation of it that I've ever seen.
I get bowled over a few times a year, it's just a waiting game, one week, two, three. I know the moment it's gone. There is no rhyme or reason to it.
I don't like reading stuff like this, not when things are bad, not when things are good. I don't want to sympathise when I'm not in that place, just thinking about it seems like tempting fate, opening the door. When it's with me I just want to not think, or can't think.
Gives me goosebumps just talking about it.