I have a darkness inside of me that sometimes I’m not even aware of. It’s a place hidden deep, down low, tucked between my lungs and stuffed under my chest. Or maybe it creeps up from my ankles, through the hollows of my bones and wraps around my thighs? Wherever it is, it peaks out from my insides and grabs hold of the heaviness around me. My body is like lead, thick and sinking. Or maybe it’s weightless and floating up by the ceiling? My eyes stay locked and unfocused. Everything blurs, even the sounds, especially the sounds; tunnel vision in my ears. Things echo and bounce. And then I’m fixated on that train horn, or the wheels of trucks turning over the lines in the highway. clunk clunk….clunk clunk. There are crickets here, and until this lock down I hardly even noticed them. My breath becomes shallow and heavy. It pulses through my temples. I’m not there anymore, but instead I’m over in the corner, looking on. There is no reasoning, there is no inner dialogue. There is nothing and there is no one. And then I’m back.