"Leaving a trail of devastation, from the International Space Station, Matthew looks like a vortex of trouble..." said the newsreader, solemnly.
"Yes, he's not looking too good from down here either," I said. My Mum laughed, and then patted my forearm gently.
Imagine that. I got my Mum to laugh at a hurricane that's currently ripping Haiti to shreds. Hurricane Matthew, they've called it. I felt bad.
It does strike me as a good picture of where I'm at though - not ripping up the Caribbean but a cyclone of internal turmoil, I mean.
I went to the doctor yesterday and he confirmed that I'm suffering from stress, anxiety and probably some chemical depression.
"Is it all chemical?" I asked him.
"It largely is," he said.
It turns out that my skin flaking off like an overcooked stroodle, my inability to sleep at the right times and the ongoing sinking feeling, are all critically related. When he asked me which came first, I struggled to remember. The mood is cyclical, the skin is recent and the insomnia is hard to forget.
So this is how it is. The Four Giants are shrouded in the fog, like enormous stone pillars. It makes the fight a lot more difficult.
Meanwhile, down here on the ground, I'm trying to smile through what feels very much like a vortex of trouble.
But it will pass. And I wont be defeated.
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