Of These Days Of Judgement

You lay low, hoping that The Evils will pass. But do they? No. Will they ever? You pray so. You reach out for a hug and you wait. But no embrace beckons no matter how many ticks you hear, no matter how much time passes.

Instead, the depressive claws of Rejection takes its chance and casts shadows on your sweat-soaked skin. As it closes its cold, hard grip on you, you hope against hope that, by some miracle, it will see it fit to release you – free you – from its painful grasp. If not always, at least this one time.

By chance, you look down and – sudden realisation – it's already let you go. When, you'll never know. Perhaps those claws never touched you in the first place. You can't be sure. But matter, it does not. Because still, you hurt. Like phantom pains from an already missing limb you never even knew you lost, you hurt.

In the same manner, I hurt.

Lost in the middle of nowhere. Caught in limbo.

Left between the spaces. Stuck in purgatory.

Of the worst of places to be, I'm there.

Even as my mind struggles to keep things together, my body's betrayed me. But that's another story for another day. For now, perhaps this betrayal is for the better. For I'm finally given time off to nurse the wounds I've accumulated. Time to (hopefully) heal a little. Time to put those agonising thoughts that haunt me to rest. Even if only for awhile.

To be honest, I doubt Better will come after cleaning up the sides of my soiled car and washing the vomit-stains off my shoes. But right now, I'm willing to give anything a try. Even if it means going into battle armed with only a torn-up cloth and a clean bucket of water.

p/s: I haven't stopped writing. I just haven't quite found it the right time to start publishing again. Perhaps someday you'll know my thoughts through these trying days. Maybe never. Only time will tell.