Bourbon, Time, and Roses


“I wake up in an abyss,” is the sentence that got me in trouble. 

It was the unfiltered thoughts of someone with depression. 

It was the sentence that embarrassed me. 

It was the thing that told me no one would help me. 

It was my punishment for not lying about how I would overcome depression and be cured. 


Today I walked past roses pliant and full, at the height of their bloom. Their leaves curled around each other, folded tightly in the center to keep it all from falling apart. 

But roses live such short lives, beautiful and ephemeral in time. 

Time is ticking

The busy season. The winter season, when everything feels like it should be at standstill with people curled up inside their homes, everyone is bustling around. 

And winter is deadlines stacked to the ceiling waiting to fall down from its own weight. 

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