The rain. It never stops here. Sometimes it seems like the sun is trying to push through, but the storm is stronger. The sky is black. The land is barren and empty. The only sign of life is me, as I stand in the middle of this vast wasteland, surrounded by this endless rain.
It pours all around me. My clothes are drenched and my dripping wet hair clings to my face. I’m hunched over, hugging myself, seeking to preserve some body heat but to no avail. I am freezing and shaking and shivering from all this endless, pouring rain.
And yet…it doesn’t rain on me. Not a drop of rain has touched me. I look up, and it’s as if there is nothing above my head but a black hole. But, I’m still wet. I move to a different spot, but the black hole follows, and nothing changes. Nothing ever changes here.
Lightening flashes and touches down beside me. Thunder claps and roars and booms. The ground beneath me shakes. The sky above me shakes. My bones shake. And I look up. The black hole has opened up. And as a single drop of water falls out and onto my flesh, the storm around me stops. The wasteland is quiet and the seemingly endless, pouring rain has ended. I take a deep breath and suddenly a flood falls out of the black hole. A flood of every rain drop that never fell on me.
Within seconds I am submersed and floating in a black abyss. I can’t breath. I can’t see. I can’t hear. I am alone. I begin to feel the burning in my chest and I’m afraid. I am afraid because although my instincts are telling me to fight it, telling me to live, I know how easy it would be to die. I want to float in this black ocean forever. It’s almost become comforting; it’s almost become home.
But then I remember, it’s all in my head. And though it’s a part of me, it’s not all of me. And then those dark stormy days aren’t so bad. And I know my depression can’t kill me if I don’t let it.