HER
I acknowledge, as a person diagnosed with depression and anxiety, that some days will be bluer than others. Some days will be murky. Some days I will feel like I am hopelessly trying to stay afloat when I feel the metaphorical waves crashing down on me. The days I run to the bathroom to cry, just because. The days I wonder my purpose, and why I am working hard to get to a place where I am unable to see the outcome. These are scary days. I lack less control on these days, smile less, speak less, isolate myself more, and choose numbness. This feeling is familiar, kind of like an old habit. One that I can sit within silence. One where I sit with loneliness- crippling loneliness. I guess I learned a long time ago the beauty of sitting with myself, which is the very reason why I travel alone once a year to challenge boredom, challenge non-social pressures, and challenge the feeling of interaction. Every one of these trips that I take, my mind speaks louder, sometimes screams and it is t...