An empty, watery flatness.
Low mood. Little movement. Lack of meaning.
The space between goals, outside achievement.
No striving or chasing.
No next steps or lessons learnt.
Facing up to what had been feared and avoided for so long.
No more energy to run away.
It's time to face the pain, the sickness in my stomach.
To be present with the aversion,
And allow the colours to fully fade until everything looks honestly grey.
To stop forcing a smile that doesn't belong.
And let myself look as I feel: depleted, discouraged, downcast.
Heavy legs. Weak body. A brain that doesn't know how to function.
I'm dismantling the facade and drifting into a place of no answers, no soundbites, no neat solutions.
A mess that hisses and spits at any and all attempts to be tided up.
Advice-givers and know-it-alls come near at your peril!
I will not sanitise it!
I will not hide it!
I will not reject it!
I will not dismiss it!
It's mine, and I'll love it, even if this frightened, godless world can't!
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