It took months and weeks for this to happen but it did. I am glad it happened. Now, how long was I away? I guess long enough for me to sink into depression, long enough for me to feel so empty, inside I out.
Yes. Depression. Mild, though. Do you know how it feels? Those little worms nipping away at your wretched heart, making your heart shed it’s oh-so-fragile skin and regrow a coat so thick, you feel nothing. That’s how I feel. Day in, day out. I’d lost touch in writing. I fumble. I stumble. Worse, I noticed. My depression grew as each day passed without words. I could not even read. Touch a book, yes. Read? No. It made me even worse. I frown so much more now, concentration is a grain of sand in the ocean. I am so tired everyday, People are not my cup of tea. Makes me frown more and feel sorry for my god forsaken ass.
How am I here, then?
Well, other than the fact that I finally had time, I also feel better now, and I wanted to feel better than better, so I am here.
I think it is psychology but I feel like my command of words has disappeared. I react so slowly to think of words. I cannot weave words into that complete gown I used to be able to. I have no coherent thoughts. And so, this comeback shall be silent. Do you appreciate a piece of written crap? No, I am afraid no one does. Self pity? Oh no, even more so. But listen. Listen. Listen to that small glimmer down by your chest. Makes sure it works. Make it work. Do not let it dim. Because when it does, no one will take notice. No one will help. No one will bother. I have been through that. I am going through that. As long as I have a thread of hope and connection I so often love, I am safe.
Safe from myself.