There is too much of the past in the present, too many things happening right now that I cannot bear. I survived them once. I don't know how to survive them again.
I've been in bed most of the day, alternating between numbness and anxiety. I pulled the bedspread over my head to make a tent around me. It was warm inside there, light broke through the green threads, and I felt safe for a little while.
This morning, I buried my face in my pillow, like I was smothering myself. I liked it. I remembered when I used to go swimming and sink to the bottom of the pool where I held my breath for as long as I could. Time stopped. The world disappeared. That's how it felt with my face in the pillow, but I had to breathe. So it didn't last long. I thought of how depression is suffocation. Depression is the pillow on my face, blotting out light and hope. I turned over and lay on my back for a long time, thinking of nothing. There is too much nothing in my mind.