Groaning I pull the blankets over my head and ignore the small shaft of light that has made its way through my black out curtains and directly into my eye. Isn’t that always the way? No matter how I’m sleeping whatever little crack of light that enters the room always seems to fall right onto my face. Now in a cave of my comforter I can’t avoid noting that my breathing is panicky and too fast.
I don’t care if I can’t fall back asleep I’m not getting out of bed. My hip is cramping, tired of being jammed into the springs of my old mattress and my body aches to get up and stretch but that doesn’t matter. I realize that I’m thirsty but make no move to get up for a glass of water. No need or want is enough to move me.
A part of me longs to somehow end the stream of tears that escape me every time I give myself up to the thoughts in my head. I want nothing more than to stop hurting. I want to want to get out of bed but I don’t and haven’t in a long time. I just want to care…at all…about anything.
The other part of me wants to want those things, but I don’t. The truth is that I just want to wallow, to sink into the cold dark depths of myself and never come out again. I’m beginning to almost like it here and that scares me more than anything. I’ve stopped struggling against the demons and have accepted the tear soaked pillow as my heads resting place. There is a stillness here, a freeness in the surrender. I can’t fix myself and I’m so tired of the daily struggle to try. It takes so much energy to try and be happy, to function, to care.
A guttural scream rips out of my throat without my knowing it was coming, scaring me. The tears start and my hands go to my hair, diving in and then pulling. It’s the pulling, the pain that stops the scream, that wakes me. That’s the only way it works…the physical pain pulls me from my emotional wreckage. A tug on the hair or a punch on the leg and then I can focus again
My phone vibrates and glows in the darkness of my hole but I don’t spare a glance its way nor do I consider answering it. I don’t want to talk to anyone, don’t want to pretend that I’ll be okay. Ignoring the ringing doorbell was a bit more annoying but even that stopped after a while; a surrender of my loved ones to my “dark place”. I can see them now shaking their heads in worry and wondering how long this “episode” will last.
My dark cocoon is claustrophobic and I can’t breathe anymore. I thrash and the blanket falls away. That irritating shaft of light reaches me again, mocking me. That light, that single bit of brightness in my darkened room could inspire hope, urge me to get up and go outside, and for a second I consider it. Cursing, I turn over away from the light, curl in on myself in a ball of pain and let the tears start to fall again.
This has been a Studio Thirty Plus prompt for the word ”light”. I know it’s a dark piece but it’s just what came out. I’ve most definitely battled depression in my life and still have my moments but I have been good for a very long time; writing has helped more than I ever could have hoped for. It was hard as hell putting myself back in the mindset to write this but I think it pretty accurately captures how I feel in that place.
Wow. Definitely been there. Gripping, to say the least.
CW-thank you. It is hard to get the words right sometimes…especially with a topic like this.
Wow. Very well written.
Thank you, JDay.
Wow what a powerful piece and something I can relate to which is sad really but that is what it is………..what is sadder is that my sister Sue has been that person
depression is a scary thing and something a lot of people deal with. I’m blessed that I can manage mine without meds and don’t get “down” often.
Wow, I’ve got a great first impression of your writing and I’m sure I’ll be visiting often.
This post is so well written. Very moving. Brilliant.
Thank you.
Karen, so glad you found your way over…just so sorry it was on a darker post. I promise they usually aren’t.
Loved this.
Is it bad that minus the crying, I often feel like I want to hide in the cocoon of my comforter on a daily basis?
Clearly, I have too many people bothering me in the morning.
I think most people want to hide away sometimes. It’s doing it too much that becomes a problem.
Very powerful and had me a little worried until I saw it was a prompt. That is how realistic your writing is I guess.
no need to worry, sweets. I haven’t been that person in a very long time and though I know that place well I never plan on going back.