Looking at high quality photos of the earth's geological
features from space and thinking about how insignificant
my experiences are. And in turn, myself.
And all of a sudden that sadness streams in like someone
removed the sandbags and the flood water is just rising
and rising.
It's that deep, crazy, hole of a feeling, centered around my stomach.
It makes me feel sad and sick and like I'll never be full, I'll never be
whole again. And like someone is clenching my throat. They started
out with a light encircling of my neck but slowly and incrementally
they are tightening their grip.
And it hurts to swallow until I just can't swallow. And that exacerbates
the hole in my stomach; that panic carves it out deeper and deeper, like
water eroding rock in the Grand Canyon.

And then I'm left to remind myself of just how lazy I am. Of just how
fucking stupid I am that I feel so sad. How my life isn't bad. Not at all.

How weak it is to feel sad.
This sadness that I'm not even deserving of feeling.

Which makes me feel sicker and sicker.
Sick that I can't fill the hole.
That I can't dig myself the fuck out.

It's incredible that someone can feel this way,
feel this way about their themselves.
Almost as incredible as the aerial view of the gradient created
by the meeting of sandy river delta and the river itself.