Depression

My greatest fear is where two hells meet: unceasing movement and eternal stagnation.

A bottomless ocean.
A maze without end.
Arms, legs flailing.
Energy spent,
Treading water,
Running out of time.

I remember when music connected me with beauty; how that beauty made me feel alive. But I'm not sure what I'm searching for now. Booklet in hand, my girlish frame embarks to save the world. The manual will guide me and tell me where to go.

I used to be the scholar, now I can't make out the alphabet. Hieroglyphics to me.

I stare into thickness, I take in nothingness. Peace without the joy. Rest without recovery in blanketed, nauseating stillness. Inescapable grey.

Here nothing is known, though everything can be perceived. The self-awareness of everything I don't know brings to sudden consciousness every inch of my smallness. It crowds my space. Heart beat after heart beat loud in my chest, I wish to be erased.

Thoughts racing, reeling, searching, connecting, reworking and closing, closing in. I shrink as the expanse grows wider; I decompose in solitude.

I feel like I may die here.

Sometimes there are faint revenues of music begin cutting through the thickened fog. They are all that's left, helping me to breathe, reminding me of breath.