I woke up today gripped by a sadness so overwhelming it was like a vise.
This crushing embrace is not a stranger ; I've been seized and squeezed by its bony fingers before.
I know what triggered it; both events are out of my hands.
A curious thought wafted in as I transitioned between my troubled dreams and anxious wakefulness: "Some people are lucky to wake up at all."
But now I am awake, and once more find myself in a fugue.
I would run, run, run back into the arms of unconsciousness.
But there would be no solace in slumber.
Because the phantasms invade my dreams and I cannot lose them, not even in the labyrinthine corridors of my subconscious.
And so here I am, awake.
Staring at bleakness.
In despair's cold embrace.