Suicide is what you die from, but depression is what kills you. You don’t commit suicide, you die of depression. At least, that’s what I will live in fear of for the rest of my life. I’m medicated now, able to feel extreme high’s and low’s without losing control, and extremely hopeful for my future. But every time someone in the news calls into question the seriousness of depression, or when someone I dearly admired loses the fight, the cloudy demons inside my mind will blur the edge of my vision to make sure I know that, while I have them under control now, they are not ever really gone.