There’s no significance. Anyone who has actually been that sad can tell you that there’s nothing beautiful or literary or mysterious about depression. Depression is a heaviness that you can’t ever escape. It crushes down on your, making even the smallest things like tying your shoes or chewing on toast seem like a twenty-mile hike uphill. Depression is a part of you; it’s in your bones and your blood. If I know anything about it, this is what I know: It’s impossible to escape.