i guess i was writing about depression a long time ago?

I was just reorganizing some files and I found a random snippet of something I wrote a long time ago (like at least ten years ago, if not longer).
It was supposed to be some grand speech from a ranger-type character. Instead I think it's a sad and kind of poignant look into something that I've struggled with as long as I can remember.
--

I can only describe it as a great emptiness, and when it seizes me I dare not move. I stay still, and tears roll down my face unbidden; my whole life up till then seems like nothing worth mention, and where I am going seems a long way off. It is as though there is nothing worth traveling toward, nothing I am to accomplish that has any merit, nothing I can do to chase the emptiness away. So I stand, or I sit, and I stare out into whatever environment that holds me, and the trees seem impossibly tall, or the grass impossibly green, or the mountains impossibly distant, until nothing before me is real anymore and my mind reels and I despair.

When it holds me that tightly, my breath catches, and my head throbs, and I lay down wherever I am and close my eyes and fall asleep, because there is nothing I can do but sleep. I have no motivation anymore. I have no objectives or goals or aims—so I sleep. When I wake, it is usually past, and I am free to be myself again… but I fear that someday I will fall asleep upon the snow and never wake, and it will take me. I would choose any death but that.