Summer was so good to me. But now September’s had its hands on my throat, and I’ve closed my eyes and let my arms go limp. I don’t know how I forgot to fight. The way out is to rebel. Receive your pain, let it be known in the palace of your heart, love it, become it, and return it in deafening waves.
Bouts of depression that convince you that lying motionless in the hands of death is all you can do
