Why was my brain working full steam to churn over dark thought? Why did it deny me of rest?

Hope. The thin veneer of hope had sloughed away and left me with the naked bone of truth.

I had dreamed high dreams but depression had conquered them; depression had crushed them. Dark shadows had extinguished the raw spark of life.

The future lay ahead of me, a bleak future full of doubts, full of uncertainties, full of darkness, full of pitfalls.

There I was, drained. Exhaustion seeped through my skin, the winter cold enveloped me, and the dullness of the November light dejected me.

All combined to induce a growing reluctance to do anything at and going out at all, as if life was simply sucked out of me.

Exhaustion and depression, two sides of the same coin, dark shadows warring against each other constantly, leeching upon my mind and my body.

And when I thought that things could not get worse, the searing pain from migraines, along with nausea, tormented me night and day, and seemed to have no end.