Monday

I can't understand where it creeps in from. Absent one minute and suffocating the next. Blink for a second and all of a sudden the air feels heavier on my arms and my stomach registers a freefalling motion and in reaction lurches into my throat, my mouth, my eyes and my mind. And there it stays, for as long as it sees fit, an unwanted guest that does not take the hosts subtle hints to clear out. No. It stays for as long as it wants. Consuming all that is good, creating a by-product of numbness and despondancy. Diseasing my eyes and ears, polluting my mind and poisoning my tongue with apathy. And yet my mind battles with itself, the solid voice of reason telling the irrational scream of emotion that nothing has changed, nothing is different. When he asks me what is wrong and I say nothing I know I am not lying because between last night and us the world did not catapult into despair and my nightmares did not come true. So I say nothing, nothing is wrong. But really, I know that is a lie. I am what is wrong.