Sometimes, quite randomly, I experience these terrible, overwhelming bouts of sorrow. They are rare, but that doesn’t lessen the pain. When I woke up this morning, I felt like something was pressing down on my chest, preventing me from breathing. I stumbled out of bed, groaning as I tried to find the strength to stand. The warmth of the sunlight spilling in through my window blanketed my legs. Usually I would be happy for this sudden heat, but today it felt like fire. I pulled my blanket up to my face and screamed into it: “Why?!” Tears ran down my cheeks and formed small wet patches on my pajamas, but they provided no release—they just seemed useless and stupid. I seem useless and stupid.
The sadness has intensified lately. I want to tell someone what is happening, but what would I even say? What is the point of this sadness? The way to solve a problem is to get to the root of it and yank it out, but what if it just keeps going and going and going forever and you can never find the source? All you can do is keep shoveling dirt over it until it is hidden, but it will spring back up every once in a while and there is nothing you can do about it. ♦