Despair comes over me from the bottom up. It starts low in my stomach as a churning, twisting. It evolves into a hollow, emptiness that spread up into my chest. Before my mind has even embraced it, it claims most of my body, only then invading my head and saying, You can't, You won't, Never. Despair is sticky and hard to shake off. Despair makes everything dark. Despair has too much room in my life, but for every inch I take back, it claims another in a day, an hour, a blink.
Despair.
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