Alive?

I don't feel it.

Love?

I can't reach it.

I can't break through the steel walls imposed on me by something unseen

It's been this way for months now.

And though I am thinking, the dull sadness is all I'm feeling.

Are genetics to blame?

I can't seem to pick myself up

Just like my grandmother as I was growing up.

Light?

I don't feel it.

Reality?

I can't reach it.

This formless anchor weighing me down as people tell me to just be happy.

It was that way months ago.

Now my only companion is the anchor.

Am I to blame?

I can't seem to pick myself up.

Though I've tried time and time again.