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By Lauren Stanley

Ready? Set? … …no.
Some days are just no. They require all the usual things; getting up, being human, going through the motions, ‘accomplishing’ stuff, drinking water. But we say “no”. Our body says no. Our soul screams it with every ounce of life left there – “NO!” “NO!” “NO!” And then we’re basically dead.
Let us go. There we go. Down down down. We’re lost. Gone. Under the weight of that heavy. It’s on our chest, in our ears, over our head. Can’t see. Can’t breathe. Breathing is for others. Not for us. It’s heavy on our chest, in our chest. Take me away from here. …but don’t touch me. Leave me here. I can handle it. Maybe tomorrow I’ll resurface. Tomorrow… tomorrow… tomorrow. That’s where life is. What a great place. We don’t have much hope in it anymore though. I don’t think it even asks us if we’re ready anymore. It knows the answer. And it never seems to really come. Well, it never brings much more than today. And we’ve been through this already. How do we resurface anyway? It’s so heavy and dark down here. It’s numb and …there are no stairs. There is no light; no path or passage or trail. No horizon or sky or ground. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
What is up? What is down?
Hope is that yellow glow in the distance. Sometimes it’s there. Sometimes we can’t see it. Sometimes it’s just nothing.
Sometimes… Maybe it is coming nearer. Maybe it will reach us. That is how we’ll get out.
We hang onto a glow. We will resurface.