My piano is mocking me. “Play me” it whispers loudly. It’s a reminder across from my bed that has become my haven that I am ill.i haven’t been able to play weeks. Unable and unwilling to leave the house for days at a time. Nestled in my bed I lay, motionless, my mind whirring with thoughts but other times it’s as empty as a tank of gas.
I actually had enough energy to read and write and eat today, which is an accomplishment. I’ve been sleeping until 4 pm and staying up too late, repeating a vicious cycle. My thoughts have been like tar lately, slow moving. I’ve felt like an empty vessel, disconnected from the world. Alone I sit in my dull lit room, longing to connect to strangers on the internet that might some day become my friend, or at least provide temporary relief from the empty loneliness that seems to occupy my waking hours. But mostly, I just sleep. I sleep my days away running from my depression, at least when I am not awake I cannot feel lonely or bored. It’s when I wake the unpleasant feelings return and hover over my head like a dark, rainy cloud, soaking me with negativity and ennui.
I want to feel happy and whole again. I want to have the energy to get through a day without having to take a nap 2 hours after I’ve woken up. I want to feel the air on my face,talk with a friend. But instead, I rot in my tomb of loneliness and despair.