i didn't need to feel it again. Feel it wrap my brain from inside and behind my eyes.

Everything i see must pass through it. Everyhing i feel must move through it. Everything you hear from my inner voice has been filtered through it.

This black gauze, this veil. This shroud. i am dead, and i communicate, blearily, from the beyond.

except that i stand here before you, and if you knew me yesterday, you think you know me now. i don't know me know.

for fuck's sake, why am i trying to invoke this again? by the time i'm able to write this it has passed, for joy! it has passed.

i shake. i tremble. i quiver at the curtain that has fallen and masked me from me and from you. i curl up under the desk at my cube, under my covers. There is not enough protection here, but it is better than the full scrutiny of day, the full light of eye contact. Please don't subject me to either until this black fog has dissipated.

For ten years, i have been at its mercy. i grateful that it has not been continual. compared to my closest companion, it has relatively not possessed me at all. but i know it lurks, and i do not need her presence or the presence it has in her life to remind me of how it lurks. And i've been good. i pump the chemicals in just like i should. This past week, i've been reminded that that's not enough. i see her pump her chemicals in regularly and am reminded that that's not enough.

What is enough?