crazy / depression / Home/Family Life

That time.


That time you walked into a store, a store you used to really like, and found nothing there. Nothing at all. No one stopped to ask if you needed assistance because there wasn’t a person in sight.

That time you stood in the shower stall, waiting for the water to grow cold, not moving under its torrent. All you wanted was for it to go cold. The water never did, and somehow, you managed to sweat out the clean.

That time someone asked you an important question, maybe, and you didn’t hear it, not because you didn’t want to hear it but because you couldn’t understand it anymore. Questions.

That time you came home from work and went straight to bed. You then woke up only to spend a few hours in front of some noise and color on the TV, but you can’t remember what you’d seen. Then you went back to bed only to start it all over again the next day, and the next, and then the next.

That time you took pleasure in something significant, only you can’t remember what that was anymore. It might have been something you dreamed.

That time you felt your insides going still, your heart on firebeat, your breath removed. You didn’t care this time.

That time you heard a possible compliment, and you shrugged it away from yourself. It isn’t you. It wasn’t you.

That time you found a mysterious bottle of Maker’s Mark in the back of your cupboard. It was almost empty.

That time you cried in the privacy of your office because, suddenly, you felt as if you didn’t know how to do your job anymore.


That time you didn’t contribute to the discussion, not because you didn’t have anything important to say, but because you didn’t feel important enough to say it. You rarely do anymore.

That time you found nothing edible left in the fridge, so you forced yourself to go to the grocery store. When you returned home, you then realized that you forgot to buy food.

That time you deliberately left the dead batteries in all the clocks in the house because time no longer mattered in the long run. The schedule was always the same. The end would come eventually.

That time you ceased to care much because what does it matter.


(Images courtesy of &

9 thoughts on “That time.

    • Thank you very much for the compliment (and reading, of course). I wrote this in a moment of sheer exhaustion and lack of will. If I do reach others suffering the same, I hope they know they aren’t alone, ever.

      Liked by 2 people

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