There are days that I wake up and the world is made of static, a thick blanket of fog dulling my senses. There are days when I can’t open my mouth, not to talk, not to eat, not to brush my teeth. An invisible forcing clamping my lips shut. These are the days that I have to force my way through a meal, the days where I swallow my pills dry and don’t move for hours. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know that the sun will rise again, and that I could wake up and feel rejuvinated, but these are the days where the numbness feels endless. I can’t trust myself to believe in tomorrow, so I trust the earth. I trust the rotation beneath my feet, the gentle arc of the sun across the sky, the shadows shifting on the floor of my bedroom. There are days when I do not believe that tomorrow will come, but Mother Nature is always there to remind me that it will.
R.C. (via half-forgotten-memory)
