What do you have to be depressed about?

I really hate when I get asked that question. Because the honest answer most days is nothing. My life is generally pretty good.

The concept that depression can be purely biological doesn't seem to click with most people. I mean, I haven't had anything too traumatic happen to me. People have survived much worse and come out fine.

The chemicals in my head are messed up. In the Dark Ages, they'd be concerned for my imbalance. Maybe I'd be bled. Or they'd want to get rid of one of my extra biles-whichever they suspected was the problem. But really, the isn't much wrong with me most days.

I prefer quiet and being alone. I miss the sun in the winter more than others. I get offended easier. I find dark humor funny because I know there's always been darker thoughts on my head. I want to withdraw and sleep. I can't sleep. It makes the pattern worse.

I like being social. I talk a lot. I'm overly confident and opinionated.

I question what I think. Sometimes my thoughts are that of someone crazy. My brain outrules my sense.

I realized today when I first considered that I could have depression. I was ten. It was the summer before fifth grade.

The funny thing? It was so much easier when I pretended that it didn't exist.

Now I have an excuse...where do the bad things about me stop and my mental disease begins?