For a friend
Somedays I swim in peanut butter. In the worst of days I fear I live there.
Sometimes things are sticky and heavy. The more I move the stickier things seem sometimes. You try to keep your head up. Submerged all is dark. No hint of light or surface. Motion is exhausting. Each stroke harder than the one before. You try to move but the place you are at looks and feels like the one you left. There is no end to obstacle. You feel like the more you move the more you are stuck. And you want to quit.
You want someone to know but how do you explain to people? Words seem like drama and posture and you wish there was a map or something you could give them. You dont understand how people can look and not see, hear and not listen.
Initially the terror suprises you and…
View original post 245 more words