I stopped writing because I thought I had nothing worth sharing, but as weeks are dragging on, I begin to believe that it’s because of the seasonal depression. I feel the change in the air passing right through my bones, the temperature is dropping day by day, the dark clouds are constantly hovering over the city and I can feel my thoughts getting drenched in all this humidity.
My head feels heavy and I have no interest in doing anything, I feel no excitement nor sadness. I feel empty, void. I’m moving incredibly slow, sluggish, slower than in slow motion, while everything around me is spinning so fast. I have such low energy that I can’t concentrate on anything. If I try reading, the words just fly away from the pages, but they never reach my mind. I feel the need to sleep more, but if I do I feel guilty for wasting time when there are so many things to do.
I can’t believe it’s that time of the year again. Everything seems so dream-like, as if I’m looking through a dirty window. The scenery is unclear and out of reach. I don’t even know what should I do: give in and let it pass, lose myself in my own mind, go with the flow or resist it, fight it off and force myself to rise above it?