I curl up in ball. The tighter I press myself together the more I hope I could just vanish, to sink into the bed and disappear. I know it won't happen though. It never does. I try to close my eyes and focus on my breathing but that only makes the silence in between deafening. The numbness is back, but really I doubt it ever left. It creeps from the shadows both from my mind and the empty room. It curls around my body. The darkness licks at me like flames but the warmth I was looking for is instead cold. It presses in like pins and needles. I would rather burn.
I would rather smell the flesh of my body be eaten away or the masochistic relief that pain brings after you haven't felt something in so long. I guess that how depression works though. It puts just enough of cold flame out so that it doesn't engulf you entirely. It lets you sink below the surface just long enough for your lungs to ache before dragging you from the water. Sometimes I wish I could just finally drown.
I want someone to wrap their arms around me and bring me warmth but I know I'd just push them away. I wonder occasionally whether its all in my head or if I enjoy the bone chilling numbness more than I'd like to admit. I believe its probably both. What is life without warring against your very breath and nature after all?