I've pretty much just stopped trying to verbally describe the effects depression has on me to people. I mean, it's abundantly clear that if you've never been there, you're never going to understand. And if you have been there, there's no explanation needed.
Especially the "I'm making sense of shattered dreams 'cause I want you to be proud of me" line? NAILS it. So much pain in just a few little words. Just about as good as Reznor's The Wretched, "It didn't turn out the way you wanted it, did it? Now, you know, this is what it feels like."
You could say today's a rough day so far. I always get down on myself when I feel like I'm not accomplishing enough, and I don't have time to right now because I'm working 56 to 60-hour weeks right now. That's barely enough time to stuff my clothes into the hamper, or closet, or toss 'em on the floor, and get an almost-adequate amount of sleep before doing it all again the next day. My paycheck is gonna love me, if I don't drive myself into the ground first. I'm so glad I will most likely have a new script for my antidepressants after Friday, y'all. I'm tired of surviving. I'm so ready to live.