Depression and how it feels

I stare out the window at a bleak landscape of snow and dead trees. I can't go outside; the doors have drifted shut. The walls of the house whisper to me that I will always be trapped in this house and the others will leave me to die. Time passes; I can't tell how much time, but now the walls tell me that when I die, I will have left nothing behind me. I will disappear as if I have never existed.
Nothing will change; nothing will ever change.
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Note: I'm not REALLY hearing the walls talk to me. This is figurative, damn it.
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I've been struggling with depression. It happens sometimes; if it persists or gets worse, I will have to see my doctor.  I don't usually struggle with my neurodiversity  -- i.e. not being wired like everyone else, which refers to a variety of mental differences one could have such as bipolar, autism spectrum and other mental health issues. However, when my moods go too far above or below the imaginary line of normal, I struggle.

You may have heard that depression is not just a "bad mood", an accurate description. I can present to my students an enthusiastic facade. I can even be that enthusiastic, chipper person while I'm teaching. I can even "catch a mood" and feel chipper for a while afterward. But in depression, that state doesn't last long, and I fall back to a feeling of hopelessness.

I'm ok; I'm doing what I need to do. My husband is keeping an eye on me.
Still, pop in and say hi if you'd like.

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It looks like I'll still write -- although I may not go the novel route for a while. I've never cared about getting anything else -- like my poetry and essays -- published, so I won't deal with the rejection.  I'm here because I think I have things worth saying.