The lyrics play on in my mind, in my earphones, maybe even in my heart and everything else I am. In times of depression, one cannot tell the difference between i feel, and i think. they get confused, and even the definition of each is blurred in self doubt. “Just take a breath and let it go..” they keep telling me like i don’t know already. This is the problem, I know. I know. But the knowledge is irrelevant, so is the fact that i’ve pulled out every trick down my sleeve to get over ‘this’. and the question remains. what is it. this ‘this’, thats been keeping me in bed for as long as i can possibly afford, the this that won’t let me sleep, that drives me to toxins of all kinds- you know. emotional suicide.
i’m told (by myself to myself) that the only cure for any of this is to write. write. write. write. right. right. wrong. i’m writing, right. but nothing feels right. and the only thing left. is to ponder. so ok let’s ponder. how long will i have to bare this for? and a voice comes running from the very back of my mind “Really Fati, this is the best question you can conjure?”
ppfffffff. Just keep breathing…