A million thoughts roll through my head, none leaving the slightest trace of a footprint. The boiler switches on and whirs into life. The noise distracts me temporarily from my daze. All around me lie books, papers, a dictionary. I know that I need to pick them up, to begin working, but I can't.
It's like my brain is white noise: constantly flooded yet empty of all sense. My eyes flicker over to a pragmatics textbook lying open by my feet. I should reach down and read a chapter. It's not that difficult, but yet at this moment it feels like an insurmountable task.
I sigh. The heating behind my bed is on full blast yet I barely feel it. I am aware that I am warm, but even removing a jumper seems impossible.
Generally depression hits with torturous anxiety or uncontrollable grief. The reality is that it hits in many ways.
A month ago I wrote that I was recovering, feeling happier and stronger than ever before. However one bad dream, one terrifying flashback has brought me back, and left me weak, hiding in the prison of my mind. Seeing me, you would never guess. The happy, laughing, confident girl in public is replaced by a shell, devoid of motivation and energy.
I sigh again. The longer I stay like this, the worse I will feel and the more behind I will become. Though I know I am supported, I feel as though I am falling into a vicious circle of devastation. I don't want to go back to where I was, hiding away, releasing emotion through pain and tears, if not for the impact upon my life, but upon the lives of my family.
Taking a deep breath, I sit up. I switch the light on. Come on Hannah.