This Time, I Know I’ll Make It Through The Downpour

A dark cloud of apathy and emptiness serves as the pillow I lay my head on every night when I go to sleep. Every morning, it rings in my ears and serves as my alarm clock. It dangles in front of me when I open my eyes, and I swallow it like a pill intended to fill the hole where my personality used to be. What side effects will this medicine have today? Anger? Loneliness? Self-destruction? It’s always a guessing game.

I resist the weight of the world pushing me back into bed and get up to fight through another day. Choosing an outfit to leave the house feels like picking out what costume to wear to play the part of a happy soul. I close my eyes and pray that today will be the day that I snap out of it. I haven’t been like this forever, but I have been here before. I’ve danced with my demons and lurked in the shadows that have threatened to swallow me whole. I was riding the rollercoaster of highs and lows, but that time, my ticket to ride expired. I finally felt like the normal person I was pretending to be.

Yet here we are again. The white noise that had threatened to replace my sanity was quieted, but I couldn’t turn it off forever. I crossed the road without looking both ways, and just when I thought I made it to the other side unscathed, I got caught in the rain. This time, there doesn’t seem to be a break in the storm. The dark cloud is back and prepared for battle. It follows me around every turn.

The difference this time is that I’ve seen the clear skies before. I know that on the other side of a downpour is a beautiful sight worth seeing. It is impossible for the rain to last forever. I am walking a very thin line between hell and happiness, but I am determined not to fall. I don’t know when or how it will happen, but I have to believe that one day I will wake up and it won’t be so heavy to get out of bed.

But since that day isn’t here yet, I’ll continue to go to bed with the familiarity of my dark cloud pillow. I’ll strip off the smile that is stitched on and wash my hands of the falsehood of my cheerful demeanor. I’ll rest my head at night and sigh out the exhaustion of tackling yet another day. I’ll close my eyes and try to sink into the solitude of unconsciousness. Goodnight depression, I’ll see you again tomorrow.

About the author
Just a girl with an obsession for turning her thoughts into stories. Follow Sarah on Instagram or read more articles from Sarah on Thought Catalog.

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