I bleed colors, I swear

It really feels different - being "cured" of suicidal depression. Notice, I didn't say 'it feels amazing'. I swear every now and then I'll catch myself not often feeling like myself without a blanket of darkness inspiring my feelings, and thus my intentions and actions. Even my creativity went from a roaring boil to merely simmering without the inspiration of pain. But after 24 months of relief, surprisingly it actually felt like the new normal. Surely it's  not as productive in the aspect of personal intrests but it almost feels as though it finally made up for the lack of social skills that hadn't been developed during high school. Anxiety surely is crippling. It's a blessing and a curse that it's not considered a handicap. Not that it means that one is actually  emotionally stable. In fact that will be the one major downfall... In which one begins to hate one's self. Day by day, one self loathing thought at a time, self disgust sets in again. One would think this was already delt with at the beginning of their recovery. Strangely, it's not gripping my chest and leaving me breathless like I remember before. More so- there's just this slightest ache in the shoulders. So peculiar. This realization did not come on like a light bulb. Rather, it's that feeling the main character gets when the melancholy music switches to deep anticipation of something dreadful. The darkness. It's coming again. It's scary. Going back to that selfish state of mind again. It's so hard to tell if I care about anything anymore. Or is that the depression talking...?