It looks like her.

The stubborn foolish girl that makes you laugh.

The socially awkward wine drinker that enacts the lines of most sitcom characters.

The friend that drives you around while rupturing the drums of the car and the eardrums of the people on the backseat, while screaming the wrong words to Britney’s lyrics — Apologies granted!

The one who craves food, but gets totally lost at a supermarket and leaves with a bag of tasteless chips and the wrong kind of cheese.

The first and last toast at your birthday party because she can never get enough of saying how grateful she is for having you in her life.

The photo fanatic who will teach you all the poses to only make you delete all the photos you have taken of her.

The party organizer and beer better who will remain sober, even after heavy sedation.

The loud laugh and infectious smile that will make your face and stomach hurt for reasons you are yet to unravel.

The crazy cook who will never be able to duplicate the same dish, as one has no idea what went in the pan — but dare you not to say you did not approve.

The A to Z Netflix watcher because she has gotta watch something while nobody is watching her.

The workaholic who always burns the midnight oil to pretend insomnia is not taking over.

The ‘Life is great, I miss you so much!’ and disappear text messages as lying is not one of her traits and facing her loved ones with the truth would only stir angst.

The 17 hour sleeper that only awakens to reply emojis and show the world she is alive.

The fashionist that sometimes cannot dress herself for there is no statement to be made.

The snugger who hates being hugged when she is feeling low, but wishes the whole universe were a big comforter that she could hide herself under.

The crooked smile, sniffles, and silly jokes that hide the tears.

The over and under eating — feeling guilty either way.

The taking pills to sleep, to get up, and to be actually awake.

The one who wakes up in the middle of the night to pray for a God she is not even sure it’s there.

The screaming on the kitchen floor, living room floor, bathroom floor. Oh, she is a fan of floors, this one.

And let’s not get started on showers and rain — I guess there is something about the water dripping that makes the tears feel more at home.

She is sadly funny and puzzlingly fierce.

Depression looks like her.

Depression looks like him, viciously preparing a 5 course meal for three.

Depression looks like you, writing reports and smiling at every accomplishment.

Depression looks like me, writing this in the middle of the night.

Depression looks like us not making sense out of any conversation, and still having a laugh right after an outburst of tears.

Peculiarly enough, we are funningly fierce and puzzlingly enduring.

There is something about the tears that makes us want to wash away our pain and fix all the wrongs in the world.

And not only are we fans of floors, but of doors, and windows, and the outdoors, cafes, llamas, pineapples, and peaches.

Gratefully, we believe. And we pray. And we thank.

And we wish for better days.