I try to detach myself from it, concentrating on the getting myself and my body through each moment. I try to notice the particulars rather than seeing the bigger, more frightening picture. I can take this step, do this thing, I can allow the routine of this life to carry me through. And mostly it does, but the lowness I feel is a drag on my resources. I cannot see joy, feel or taste it. And this shames me. I have so much and others so little. I want oblivion, that empty nothingess, and know that for the moment it isn’t for me. I have a life to live. And I am sorry that I cannot live it with more lightness. I am, sorry.
