drowning

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As I sit here on my bed, listening to The Way Life Goes by Lil Uzi Vert, all alone at home, unable to sleep for the fourth night in a row, I feel myself crumbling. When a wave of depression hits you like a bulldozer, there is really nothing left for you to do except to fold and allow it to run its course. I don’t know if it’s because I have been getting very little sleep, or because I have been really stressed out with my job hunting and coming up with no call backs. But, it’s definitely something because the bucket that held my tear ducks tightly shut, have been ripped off. I don’t even know what to do about it anymore. Every time I was about to break and cry, I would get up and walk my dog, or go for a little drive around my neighborhood, but nothing seems to be relieving the ache I feel inside. Even the tears refuse to make an appearance. I gave up trying to suppress them, to only have my sadness laugh at my desperation to quicken the process. I feel sad to the point of dry heaving and clenching my chest in agitation, and still the tears will not flow freely. A tear slide here and there, but never consistently together. I think that’s what’s so infuriating to me—the fact that I cannot cry at this moment even when all my insides feel like I’m being crushed by the very weight of my pain as I can feel my sanity shatter into bits and pieces. But, maybe the reason my body doesn’t want to cave into the need to cry, is because once I do really start crying, I will be unable to stop, and I will be crushed by the heaviness of my sorrow. I feel so utterly alone. I keep telling myself that moving to a whole different state was the best fit for me mentally, emotionally, and physically. Yes, I still believe all of that is true, but that still doesn’t make the feeling of loneliness any less apparent nor the ache that I feel as days turn to weeks as I stare at this big house all to myself, as the once peaceful silence turn against me. They say it gets better with time and accommodation, and yet the suffocating feeling never goes away as it remains hidden in the shadows of my mind. It might not attack you today, next week, or even a month from now—but when it does hit you, it will paralyze you emotionally, making it even unbearable to breathe. Maybe all of it was wrong and my body was not trying to protect me from the ache, but actually preparing me for the current that would eventually drown me. Like it always seems to do.

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