It settles down on top of my prone form like a heavy winter quilt. The light is on, but I can't see it through the thick fabric. The voices of my friends and family are muted and distant.
I feel heavy and numb. My muscles begin to ache from the constant weight and I can't make my limbs move. The lethargy is spreading to my brain as well.
I know you are out there, but I just can't respond. I'm slowly suffocating and no one notices because the quilt is invisible to everyone, but me.
Every once in a while I feel the weight lift and I realize I can still breath. I might even muster a laugh or a smile. But as the quilt slowly drifts down to settle on me again, I cry. The despair seems even worse now that I've had a small reprieve.
It's dark in here and I'm tired.
It's heavy, so very heavy!
*Please give an extra smile to everyone you meet.
You never know what they are dealing with.
Your smile may be the only breath they get today.