Nothing comes out. Not even with my therapist, or my friends, not even to myself. I can't seem to find the exact letters and twist my tongue boldly enough to say what's wrong with me because I have no idea what it is. I can't. I can't tell them about the fact I was so tempted to kill myself with antidepressants, about how I can't wait until I travel and travel and walk around the earth here and there until I forget everyone's names, until I forget my own name, until I am nothing. How I avoid eating just like I did years ago so I can become the air that everyone breathes and every time someone tells me I look skinny or I look good I beam inside knowing I'm that much closer. How I love life even though I can barely see colors and shapes correctly since this very thin fog keeps covering everything up. And since I love life despite this impalpable cyst that prevents me from moving, prevents me to feel pain and joy and the wind on my back and the sun on my forehead, I keep walking.

I have no idea where I'm walking to, and everything I feel it's as though I'm not really there. But when I actually do feel something, it's overwhelming, like rain after days of clouds, it just drenches everything and fills every hole and every crack in the wall and I am momentarily incapable of thinking anything other than that. 

It's horrible, not being able to write as I used to. I used to have more ideas than cells in my body, more stories made up than molecules of water in my blood. And what's even worse is that I have no idea why. I have no idea of when and how I became this sick, it seems as though one day I woke up and it was there. I know I'm blessed, I know I am young, and have so much ahead of me, but that's why it's a sickness; it goes beyond reason, beyond my own power to change it. 

I just want to be healthy again. Unlike my dearest friend who sleeps eternally, I want to get better. I need to get better. I need to go to Iceland. I need to see and Aurora Borealis. I can't stop, even if my bones are frayed and my mind is torn, even if I hate breathing, I can't stop until I get there. And I won't, even if the day comes when I can barely go outside to buy groceries from how scared I am of myself and the outside world, I will do it, for us.