Nothing really happened to trigger it. I was going about my life as before, but this wretched little creature I fondly call Depression decided to pounce again. Perhaps it’s just PMS, perhaps it’s anemia kicking in. Perhaps it’s me not wanting to see something that’s painfully obvious. Or it could be me seeing something that’s not there, making a mountain out of a molehill, and causing myself grief for no reason whatsoever.

I am speaking in riddles, but not for the sake of being cryptic. My mind is not functioning; it’s going around in circles and all I can feel is pain. Maybe it’s good. The last time I started spiraling downward, I couldn’t feel any pain. I disassociated completely. When I felt the razor blade, that’s what “woke” me up. Now pain is present, constantly present.

I feel like a selfish, egotistical bitch complaining about my sorrows when there are others suffering from something that’s infinitely worse. But this is what I am feeling and I cannot make any excuses for it.

Before, dance would drag me out. I would choreograph, and the pain would, if not abate, then at least go away for a little while. There is a reason why I don’t show my choreography to many. By looking at it, it’s obvious what’s going on in my life. Someone, who saw my work once, turned at me, looked at me hard, and asked, “how are you still alive?” He was captivated by what my dances were like, but was afraid for my sanity, was afraid for me. I, however, was not. I was past caring either way.

This is not a letter crying out for help. I am stronger now, much stronger than I was a year, five years, a decade ago. My choreography still amazes people, but they are no longer afraid that I am going to take a long drive off a short cliff. But I need to purge, and the one person I can say all of this to will not be able to hear me. He is the reason why I am feeling like this, but I see no way out.

He was right. Partners should never get involved. Only now it’s too late, and I don’t know what to do.