It comes in waves. It hits like lethargic nonsense.

You feel out of focus. There is no drive and purpose. You have difficulty in concentrating. You are just sapped of energy. You begin to doubt yourself.

Getting out of bed is difficult. It overshadows everything good: a good family, a steady professional life, good health, good city, good life, good weather. You should be fucking grateful!

But alas, the sun doesn’t shine here, not this time.

Nothing tastes, smells, or feels right and you are unable to think or make decisions–yet you still have to carry on doing all those things. And so much of the time you just don’t have the energy or the desire. But you still carry on anyway.

Then you refuse to answer phone calls. You refuse to answer emails and messages. You just want time out. Away from everything and away from people. There is this loss of desire to partake in life.

You’ve fixed the bed for the nth time and now your attention is on the sink. Hoping someone would cook and let you wash the dishes just so to keep your hands busy. You hate looking at your shaking hands. Since all you do is watch walls, mindless repetitive work sounds good right now.

You can’t eat. You barely sleep. You can’t really put into words what’s bothering you because you don’t have the slightest clue what it is to begin with.

Worst is, people watch you when you eat, saying you’ve lost so much weight. In your head, you tell them to mind their own goddamn business.

It’s all in your head you tell yourself. Get out of this funk you tell yourself. But all you feel is this deep melancholy. Maybe you just need a change of scenery? The beach or a trail hike will do you good. A swim, a little bit of writing? Perhaps.

Being down this road before, you know that somehow you’ll get passed this. Take your time, there’s no rush love.

Smiling maybe painful right now but I have long embraced my violent rain clouds.