Some days you want the world to melt around you, for everything to wash away.
Some days you feel glued to the bed, completely incapable of rising.
Some days you need to shut the blinds and pretend there isn’t a world outside those windows.
Some days you want to deny that there are bills to be paid and children to raise.
Some days you crave complete silence, and even the sound of the alarm clock sends you into a rage.
Some days the bed is your favorite companion, and you hide beneath the sheets from reality.
Some days you hate the skin you live in, and you wish you could shed your sorrow like a snake.
Some days you want to scream at the top of your lungs that it’s all just too much.
Some days you just want to curl up into a ball and cry.
Some days you want none of this – not the crying – not the screaming – not the hiding – but it’s all you can manage because the illness is winning.
Those days are the ones when you most hate yourself.
Today is one of those days.