He's in my head. I run from him. His words repeat in my head over and over and over again. Finally, I escape. Each time he opens his mouth, I feel a bang in my head and a tear in my heart. I burst through the door. I run miles on miles, far, far away. I continue to run, then I feel a drop of rain. Then another….and another. The droplets of rain gradually grow in mass and strength. The enlarged beads of water rushing down my face, soaking into my wrinkled clothes, drenching my once soft hair, sinking into every crevice of my body. I hear thunder, I can feel the ground shake at my feet. For a moment, I fear he is trying to speak. Still, I run. I can't slow down, the sweat falls into my eyes. ¨A table leans against itself to be a table¨ once said Natalie Eilbert. ¨I want literature that is not made from literature¨ says Bhanu. I fall.
Running From Depression
January 21, 2018