Oh. Depression, hi.
You must have missed me to go to all that effort to sneak in and rearrange everything I’ve been working so hard to put in place. I think you flat out hid my motivation because it was right in front of me for the past several months, and now there’s just an empty space where it used to be. I can’t get up from the floor, the Feng Shui is all off in here. My energy is on the wrong side of the room and out of reach, my emotions are upside down on the ceiling, and my sense of purpose is slowly burning in the fireplace. It’s the middle of Texas summer, why the fuck do you need to build a fire anyway?
Ah right, because you’re a bastard who draws your energy from causing suffering. You make things more complicated than they need to be because that is your driving force. Fine. Today you win. I stayed home because of you; neglected my responsibilities and postponed my obligations because you ambushed me and succeeded in incapacitating me.
You won the battle, but I still have the upper hand in this war. I have music to play that is more powerful than you are. I have friends and a husband who care about me deeply. I have dogs who are glued to my side whether I’m happy or sad or mad. I have chemicals running around fighting for me. I have a home that is safe. Most importantly, I have writing. I’m telling everyone what you are doing to me when all you want is for me to silently relent.
That’s not my style. You had your day. Tomorrow is mine.
And put the room back the way you fucking found it.