And here I am, lying underneath this wooden desk in this empty classroom in the furthest reaches of campus.

There is something so unnecessarily dramatic about the situation and yet I cannot bring myself to emerge from my cavern of solitude.

Nowhere else is safe.

To be honest not even this cold linoleum is safe.

My own mind is a goddamn war zone. My heart is full of disquiet. I cannot get up. I cannot face reality. I cannot face myself or my issues or the light of day. I am fucking stuck here on this snot-green floor, staring at old pieces of chewing gum and this old dusty pipe, praying to Christ or Allah or Buddha or Vishnu or whoever the fuck has the divine power to get me out from under here.

Because I am not fucking strong enough to do it myself. I am a weak fucking person and I am riddled with flaws and now I am stuck.

And it is only when I hear the first footsteps, a set of heels click-clacking loud against the ground, that I will myself to stand up.

Keep moving.

Keep going through the motions.

Keep plastering that same fake smile on that same ugly mug I’m forced to look at in the mirror every morning until maybe one day that fake smile is not so fake.

In the end it will always be other people that save us from ourselves.

A set of footsteps.

A smile.

An acknowledgement of your existence that reminds you you are alive and that you are not alone in this fucked-up world.

In the end, everybody needs saving. In the end, divinity presents itself in something as simple as a set of footsteps. You just have to open up your goddamn ears.

And I will get through this life if I have to drag my feet the entire fucking way.

And I am at my worst.

Where as previously the nature of my depression would beg in anguish for someone to save us, it has now given up. My depression, now a discrete and discernible entity inside the four walls of my body, longs for the absence of love. On both knees it clings to the ankles of my life, asking for the departure of all light so that it may find solace in the justification of its own existence. So that we may both slip quietly out the backdoor. 

Without word. 

Without notice. 

The lack of reason amplifies the pain; makes it loud upon my ears. Dampens all other sounds. Brings an awareness of the now desperately beating cardiac muscle in that same cavernous space.

The lack of reason awakens another beast. 

A

  n

    x

      i

       e

          t

            y. 

And I imagine them at war with each other. I imagine my anxiety and my depression like monsters; cold and massive bodies covered in dark green scales, towering above the concrete giants of the city. Snapping jaws and sharp teeth and long white claws tearing into each other, fighting for control of my body. 

And I am helpless. I am left watching. Waiting. All I can do is sit, frozen, staring at this computer screen while they fight their bloody fight. Hoping that they will destroy each other in the battle.