I am here (down inside).
Your voice is muffled and I don’t much care because I don’t feel like hearing you right now.
Everything outside of me is too much and over-done. The corners of my mouth pulled down and held in place by boulders so huge there’s no point in trying.
Behind the dark curtains of my eyes, is a private second home where I hole up and push out everything that is too loud to feel and succumb to the gravity rendering every molecule of air dead weight.
Fighting depression is like trying to stand up with a car on my lap after not sleeping for a week.
I embrace these heavy times. I let them come and pass by. I rest. I write. I think. I stare. It always passes like weather. I have learned to hold the hand of this dull version of myself, keeping an eye out like I would for a loved one. Tears are cathartic and cleansing.