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Fighter
August 8, 2015
The World is angry.
The World is angry and cold and foggy and cloudy and raining, thundering. And in The World we wander.
I have wandered too long. Numb from the cold, blinded by the fog, drenched from the rain, and fearful of the thunder.
My years of wandering have only fueled the hate of The World.
I was about to loose my life to The World, when all of a sudden, warmth. Warmth in the cold, dead world, had wrapped itself around me. A blanket.
Ever since, with my blanket warming me, The World got a little better with each step of my wandering. Soon enough, before I even realized, I was running, not trudging.
© Mary A., Fullerton, CA
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This piece is about my recent fight with depression. 'The World' in this peace meant both the world we live in and our own world. Both were dark and blind, and it wasn't until I found a blanket. A reason, my reason.
A reason to live, a reason to run, a reason to laugh, and a reason to smile again. You must keep wandering, if I hadn't wandered, I wouldn't have found my blanket.