Lately, I’ve had more time to get lost in my own mind. I travel down the dark pathways between synapses, watch neuron storms flash across the horizon, and stare into the void spreading in the shadowed corners of my skull.

All this time home and thinking has forced me to reconcile with my own depression and constant feeling of helplessness. I’m always so mad, and frustrated, and floundering, and all at things I can’t do anything about. I attempt to turn off politics, I try and lose myself in entertainment or crafts, I seek out social situations to keep my brain focused on the next words spilling out, rather then the thoughts not given voice.

It feels like I’m a music box, sometimes. I get spun up and appear to the world as happy and carefree and clever, all while an exciting tune hums along as I make my motions across the day. Eventually, the music stops, and when it does I find myself alone and struggling to get myself spinning again.

What frustrates me the most is I know that others have it worse than me. I know others have it so bad they can’t even get out of bed. So bad they forget to eat or shower. So bad they’d rather end it all rather than try and spin again. I don’t have it that bad though, I’m lost somewhere between the two worlds, feeling awful and useless and sad but never being able to put it into words or explain to my partner why he feels like somethings off or that I’m mad.

Writing it all out feels good. It’s like I’m channeling some energy into the Vice currently crushing my skill, begging it to let up for just a little and allow me to hear the tune from my music box instead of the screaming of the void surrounding me.