Depressed

What is Happiness after all?, something fleeting, like trying to grasp mist?. Like most of us, I fear I truly know what makes me Un-Happy. Facing up to a truth, makes me Un-happy. Opening an old wound, makes us all , Un-happy, going once again to our dark place, that makes us Un- Happy.
                                                                   Strange, as in lately I have felt its presence, creeping up on me, a familiarity, a response to a passion, and a false belief. That feeling that you have when your the loneliest person in the whole world. A face lost in a crowd. Its time I fear, that I need to revisit this place. Somebody learned once said that 'depression is part of what makes us what we are, and we have to visit it now and again'.
As I said, I fear I am long over due a visit.