Sinking feeling

Like grains of dull grit sand, 

thousand upon thousand in number, thoughts and days lay heavy like a gritty carpet in her mind.

 She felt the weight of the thoughts, the grey days, the burden of it had become a daily task. It wouldn't shift. No activity, conversation, goal setting plan set in place removed the strange awareness of its weight.

 Too tired to even try to fathom what was wrong this time. Too tired to try to articulate the culmination of boring, relentless days. Turning over, like a slow turned page of a dusty book, stained by the smell of smoke and coffee. God this was a chore. 

A tasteless meal, a flavourless banquet that she had no care to eat. 

Nothing seemed to ease the dull awareness of the burden she carried. 

Nothing appeased the nagging voices, the relentless chatter that gnawed away at her every waking moment. 

This depression was an ugly, unwelcome friend who had nestled in and taken up camp in her inner chambers. It Refused to move on.

She had no fight left in her to even try to speak. Let it be. She sighed. For I am far too weary and tired to face this now.