I haven't written anything for the past few days. Most of my time is placating the internal dialog that berates me endlessly. I don't hear voices, other than my own. A constant narrative backdrop when my meds aren't working. Awash with a sloshy sadness that ebbs like the tides, coming and going.
I've been feeling sick, able to feel something more than despair at least. My boyfriend puts up with me, at least for now. My dog chooses to like me even when I'm dispondant. I'm lucky.
It's almost like forgetting how to be happy. Waking up one day and not feeling right. The dark mood impedes any productivity. The less achieved, the deeper the ache.
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