With the nausea and light headedness comes the dark.
The craving of melancholy, musical choices change to the minor keys, the quiet and downbeat. Lyrics flow over old wounds.
It is different now, the detachment of old is gone. Replaced by a floating view, looking down on this place, the swirling moods that ebb and flow.
Sleep comes, the dreams slide from view and in the morning the mood remains unblinking and groggy.
Sometimes it needs to be smashed, broken into pieces and scattered to the winds. It is merely a passing moment of life, it does not need to be reviled or pitied.
And sometimes it needs to be coaxed quietly into the light where it will slowly and quietly fade away.
Let it be acknowledged and allowed to be what it is before it dissipates. The final reveal is broadcast in a smile.
It’s sometimes just like sleeping,
Curling up inside my private tortures.
I nestle into pain.
Hug suffering.
Caress every ache.
I’m ok, it’s just a little bit of self-observation. I find it interesting to see that when I’m ill, and my energy levels drop, I tend towards melancholy. Just a minor case of the mehs.