Extended metaphor for depression

I closed my eyes and fell backwards. Falling through the layers. The first one was the best. A few rouge leaves over the lawn, the paint drying slightly. Perfectly imperfect. Cosy. Warm. Just what I needed. The next layer was more well kept. It was formal and pristiene, but not to formal, it still fooled people. It still protected me. I allowed myself to shed it and went onto the next one. The road was getting smoother and more grey. The next layer was ok. So much better kept than the first two, but it was faker. More plastic looking. The observant ones could see through it. It didn't hide me as well. Next to it was a bright and colourful one. My maddness layer. I liked this one. Out of all my layers, it was my favourite. It was the most like me that the world ever saw. I often wished I could spend more time here. Where anything was possible. Where I could laugh and be free. Where, even if only for a moment, I could forget about everything else. Where the shadow didn't hang over me. It was rare that I was allowed in this layer, but when I was... When I was. But as quickly as I had arrived here…