You can run all you want but when the darkness hits you, you have no choice but to ride it out. You can’t hold on. There are no finger holds.
Nothing to grab onto. So as terrifying, mind numbing as it is, you have to ride it out.
You’re so sad that all you want to do is sit, curl up in a corner and cry. Hold yourself. Hear yourself breath. Every breath reassures you that you can make it, a breath at a time.

Sometimes it also helps to put a time limit on how long you’ll stay in the darkness. Make the necessary choices to fight to see the light. Fake it. Use every breath. Be willing to die fighting.

But first, let me see what lies at the bottom of the bottle of Southern Comfort and at the end of this joint.
Depression is a bitch.


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