I cannot bear to slip my legs out of the warmth, safety, and privacy of my bed today. Or yesterday. Or tomorrow. Here lies the body that houses a heart that once cared too much. So much that it no longer beats to the same rhythm. The tempo got slower, the beat became melancholic. The body no longer listens to the heart, it listens to the sad, blue brain. And the brain says, no. Do not leave the bed, do not speak to anyone for the day. Maybe even the entire week. So I stay. And I do not speak.
Yet, the world still spins and the time still passes. Without me. I watch out of the window as the pink sky turns to blue and back to pink. The golden sun tries to peek through my window, hoping that today it will be able to talk the brain into getting out of the blue, but the brain says no. The shadows push the sun back out the window, and the lights all go off.
No one bothers to ask if I am okay. They all know the answer is the one they do not want to hear, or do not know how to respond to. So here I lay. Alone and cold. In the shadows of a brain, who lives in a body, that used to house a caring heart.