I am depressed sometimes, but it's not what keeps me at home or

The musician Daron Malakian, whose songs roar with both rebellion and introspection, once said: “I am depressed sometimes, but it’s not what keeps me at home or focused on work.” In these simple yet profound words lies a truth as old as the human heart: that sorrow need not become surrender. Malakian speaks for every soul who has felt the shadow of melancholy but refused to let it rule their days. His confession is not a lament — it is a declaration of balance, of choosing to live and create even when the weight of darkness presses down.

From the earliest days of humankind, the struggle between light and shadow has been at the center of the human story. The poets of old called it melancholia, the philosophers called it the battle of the soul. Even the great minds — Homer, Aristotle, and Seneca — understood that sorrow is not a stranger to genius. It is a companion, sometimes unwelcome, yet often the wellspring of depth and understanding. Daron Malakian, like those ancient seekers, reveals that sadness is not the end — it is part of the journey. To be “depressed sometimes” is to be human, but to continue creating, striving, and moving forward despite it is to be heroic.

His words remind us that feeling pain is not failure. Too often the modern world teaches that joy must be constant, that sadness must be silenced. But the ancients knew better — they saw that even the strongest warrior carries scars, and even the greatest artist walks through silence before they sing. Malakian’s courage lies not in denying his depression, but in naming it without shame. He accepts it as part of his nature, yet refuses to let it define him. This is the strength of wisdom — to acknowledge the storm without letting it sink the ship.

Consider the story of Abraham Lincoln, one of the most revered figures in history. Those who knew him spoke of his deep melancholy, the “black dog” that followed him all his life. Yet Lincoln did not hide from it; he transformed his pain into empathy, his sorrow into resolve. It was said that his sadness made him more compassionate, more reflective, and more just. In his quiet endurance, he mirrored the same truth Malakian expresses: that depression, though it visits the heart, need not imprison the soul. Both men show us that one can live with the shadow and still walk toward the light.

The origin of Malakian’s quote lies in his life as a musician — a creator of sound born from chaos. As a member of System of a Down, he poured his inner battles into art that speaks to millions. The energy of his music is not the denial of pain but its transformation. By saying that depression is not what “keeps [him] at home or focused on work,” he teaches that creation itself is a form of survival — that to act, to build, to express, is to resist despair. Like the blacksmith who tempers steel in fire, he turns sorrow into strength, and silence into song.

In this way, Malakian’s words carry a message for every generation: that the mind’s storms need not halt one’s purpose. Life will always bring shadows, and the heart will sometimes ache without reason. But purpose — the act of doing, of creating, of moving — becomes the bridge that carries us across the darkness. The key is not to wait for the storm to pass, but to continue walking through it with faith that it will one day lift. This is how the artist becomes a sage, and the sufferer becomes strong.

Let this, then, be the lesson: do not let your pain define your path, but let it deepen it. When sadness visits, welcome it as a teacher, not a master. Rise each day, even if slowly. Do your work, make your art, love those around you, and you will find that even sorrow bends before persistence. The ancient Stoics taught that while we cannot control what we feel, we can control what we do — and in doing, we reclaim our power.

Thus, the wisdom of Daron Malakian stands as a torch for all who struggle in silence. To admit “I am depressed sometimes” is to speak truth; to add “but it’s not what keeps me at home or focused on work” is to claim victory. This is not denial — it is defiance. It is the warrior’s creed of the modern age: to continue living, creating, and loving, even when the heart is heavy. And when the night feels endless, remember — the act of rising itself is the dawn.