Sometimes it creeps up on me. It is especially insidious in the summer when I do not have any "have-to-do" obligations to distract me and get me going. The sunny days are overwhelming in their insistence that I get out and enjoy the day. Nothing else to do but enjoy. But if you can't...
When I do heed the call of the outdoors on those bright days, I do feel a little better at first. Eventually, the view becomes skewed, and everything takes on a mirage-like quality. The people, the cars, the grass, the sidewalk. Does any of it really exist? Do I? I've walked through and sat in the sun and felt the warmth, but only as an afterthought.
Summer rain is actually better. It is the sound that I like. Not just the thunder, but the water hitting leaves and ground. Something I can stand in and feel. Feel. Because I haven't been.
There's a cloak around me--impenetrable and heavy. It keeps darkness in, but the outer layer colors for my family and friends. It's exhausting pretending, but necessary.
Hard to do anything with the weight and the darkness. Cleaning leaves me anxious and dissatisfied. Explaining is laborious and daunting. Dissension, harmony, unity, and strife all ocean behind my eyes but only trickle down my face in secret.
Writing escapes me, so I have no rescue.
But this day, alone with the screen, in the earliest parts of morning, everything held within for days. spews onto this.
I'm awash with embarrassment and freedom.