Most days, I feel like I'm floating. Most days feel like they're glazed over with this unexplainable haze, and most days I end up asking myself when this -- whatever this is -- will end. If it will ever end. I don't know what to do, when most of my days have a dwelling of anxiety and fear and misery and other dark things creeping around the corner -- dark things that could swallow me whole if I allow them to, and many a time I have come close to letting them in completely.
I have been drowning -- choking, suffocating -- and even when I get a breather, the air feels thick with an impending sense of despair, as if this is the only part in my life now that remains consistent, day after day.