obstreperous crying from hungry newborn. crouched in bathroom, hands over ears. postpartum blues.
I feel so alone here. I don’t know what’s wrong. Wake up and the point is a mystery. I can write these words but they can never be enough. Those I love call it drama, but they don’t me. The quiet is so loud here. These instruments of doubt. Try to block them out but […]
We set a date- Depression and I. “Come in and please sit down.” “You’ve been here far too long,” I said. “It’s time I put you out.” He laughed and shrugged, “I’m not done yet. I haven’t tired your soul. I’ll tackle that first, my dear. And then you’re free to go.”