Depression is just a phase, from which a lot of people can't seem to get out. I'll rather focus this piece on those deprived souls than on the thing that makes them act that way because those people are more interesting than depression itself.
It's easy to spot a depressed person from a herd, even if the whole herd is going through problems of various sorts. They're the ones occupying a corner with a wilted flower in their hands, not wondering why it's not breathing but just silently savouring the beauty in its dead remains. They find beauty in the worst places and enjoy even the smallest things that might go unnoticed to a normal being.
Their playlist is a temple of sorrow where they pray for their lost loved ones and fall on the feet of the artists who produces those relatable symphonies. They will share their playlists only with the ones who they think understands them. Listening to it will make you cry but for them, it's a different story. Being submerged in that vibe all the time is heaven's abode for them. Some of the poor souls will listen to it on loop to urge out a cry but they've run out of tears a long time ago.
They're devoid of emotions and feelings but they bear empathy in their hearts. They will hold you close when you're sad coz they don't want anyone to go through the same thing as them, they've known how it feels to be dead from inside and they will try their best to keep your smile intact even though they haven't rocked it in ages.
They will come to your place ardently to console you through your bad times but they won't let you peek inside their own homes. They have reminisces of their dead memories hanged all around the house. Their walls are covered with greyness that depicts the lifelessness perfectly. The kitchen sink is always overflowing with pain and they don't bother closing the tap. They will shut every door if they're having a breakdown of their own coz they have learnt to be alone in crisis. The only place you could find well would be a broken window which pours in moonlight inside their dead homes. They cherish a peaceful window over a view of their deceased rooms.