a single slice
In July, I was suicidal. I had been sinking into the hole of depression for years, and the pandemic had expedited my descent. Abilities fell away like the layers of an onion; first, I stopped eating, then I stopped replying to texts, then I stopped talking, then I stopped interacting with others altogether. Each new dawn was the biggest betrayal. How dare the sun come up when I was unable to move? How dare the world keep spinning when mine had come to a screeching halt?
