eclairs

depression is like eating an eclair with no cream inside. Some higher up power is playing games with you, and decided to suck all the marrow out of the bone, leaving with you just an empty shell of something that could have been, and is supposed to, be delicious. Biting into a hollow husk of dry bread and bittersweet chocolate with no cream to smooth over those rough edges. It's meaningless. It's not what it is anymore. Then what are you?