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MENTAL HEALTH

Depression Has Its Claws in Me

I need to face the monster to break free

Claire Franky

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A woman looking out of a window.
Photo by Michael Heise on Unsplash

The bright red liquid ran down my finger and into the palm of my hand. I watched as the blood stained my palm. My jaw clenched. Followed by every other muscle in my body as anger swept through me.

I tried to breathe out the frustration, closing my eyes as I did but my mind wouldn’t allow me to relax.

Finally, I stood and stepped over to the tissue box, pulling one out and wrapping it around the gash in my finger.

I glanced back at the half-built child’s easel in the middle of my living room. It turns out that balancing the unequal legs, holding the tray straight, and trying to drill it into place at the same time was as tricky as I expected.

Huffing, I stomped to the bathroom to clean up my hand before returning to my seated position on the living room floor. As I picked up the drill once more, I glanced at the clock.

1:30 AM

I gave up on shaking the flashlight and let it fall by my side. It was one of the hundreds of things I needed to do yesterday — charge the flashlight.

There was a spare one in my coat pocket. The coat that was inside the house hanging on its hook.

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