sometimes the malaise comes over me and although i know it’s a sickness of the mind, it is difficult to think through it, to imagine the other side where i am alright and my thoughts are not tinged with rot. that there is a dawn where i will be able to take deep strong breaths and fill my lungs without sharp pain or a heavy sense of futility. i curl up on our love seat with my newborn son cradled in my arms and i want to stitch him there, safe and sound and smelling his father, a buried memory he will always carry within him even after i am gone. i kiss him and in turn reach out to my daughter to kiss her soft cheek as well, and each time she veers near me i whisper, i love you, because one day i won’t be able to say anything at all. i only remember fear and the sickly sweat of my father’s death. it is difficult, despite everything, despite this new thing i have become, to abandon myself effortlessly, to hold myself still enough and breathe it all in.