Exhaustion. The specter of exhaustion wore me dow. It filled my lungs. It crushed my bones. It wrapped my mind into wisps of lethargic fog. It polluted my life.
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Depression defies neatness. It is a story of ups and down shifting without warning, a frantic dance, a perverse games played in my brain. It is a chaotic roller coaster ride during which one feels overwhelmed by one’s own worthlessness.
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I was afraid to live. I was afraid to die. My mind was in the grip of a gloom that would not abate. And while I wallowed in a state of deep depression, I sometimes wondered if my life had reached its peak.
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The simple act of waking up had become increasingly difficult. My mind and my body, the distinction between them being blurred, were like a cold and derelict engine that took a considerable time to start up. The mist of slumber had not completely vanished and was still opaque enough to confuse me and make me wish that I sound asleep under the quilt.
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It was 3 in the morning and all was silent but the storm that was raging outside. A storm that seemed to echo the chaotic state of my thoughts. I was awake, restless. Despair had entered my soul as surely as the cold had entered my body. It was despair that throttled any hope that remained. It was despair that kept me awake and drove my mind in turmoil.
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