I’m creating because I have to at the moment. It’s a necessity. Something I can do that distracts me from acting on the persistent thought that I shouldn’t be here. I used to enjoy creating an artwork or a piece of music – even when I felt low the act of sitting down and putting my feelings on paper or expressing them in sound lifted my spirit. This time the depression is different and difficult. A hole opens up in my chest as I draw. Dark and despairing. There is no joy here. Not right now. There is no pleasure in creating but it is my life jacket. I will sink without it.