Today nothing wants to move. The world outside sits in icy stasis, the very air locked down, hovering with the thermometer around zero. The squirrels raid the bird feeders muffed in thick fluff flecked with snow. The birds sit, dark lumps in brown barren trees on a steel-gray day.
Inside, in me, the way forward is mired in resistance. Nothing appeals and little gets done, my inner life grinds on at a glacial pace. All is stasis here, too. The darkness of depression has descended, it's all I can do to write something, anything, nothing. But there is this, for what it's worth.
Though it doesn't feel like much.
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