Oh well, okay.

The horrible feeling has settled in again, the one I thought I’d shaken this morning when I left my apartment and it was warm outside, the one I thought I’d slept off when I found myself able to get out of bed, shower and dress with relative ease. But the horrible feeling is back, seeping through my bones, water-logging and weighing me down. I’m sad, I’m sad, I’m sad. It’s not about any one thing, or one event, or one person, or one action, it’s about the impermanence of everything. Of my home, both my sense of it and my physical place of dwelling, of my constructed and biological families, my feelings of safety and satisfaction. All impermanent. All shaky. Is this what depression was like? It’s been so long since I toyed with that word, put it on my plate and poked it with a fork. I’m not interested in trying it again. But I’m so tired. I’m so damn tired. It will get better, I tell myself. Here are the things you can do: you can wait, and be patient. You can eat nutritious foods and sip only tea at night. You can sleep. You can walk, and walk, and walk. You’ll find clarity. Well please let it come. Please let it come.