It’s that deep, dark place I visit after spending days or weeks traveling into. The place where I’ve found myself dejected, sad, rejected, angry, jealous.

Angry at the world for not giving me what others have received.

Tears falling as I realize I’m in the place where I don’t deserve to be. I have no reason for being here. Nothing concrete has put me here.

Only in my mind have I traveled here.

The dark hallows of my mind have brought me to this place where I don’t belong.

Even in my depths, I’m outcasted.

Other people belong here. Other people who have suffered, who have been brought here not by their own mind, but by outside forces beyond their control.

Death. Disease. Sickness. Suffering.

Those people, affected by depressing situations, belong here if they happen to arrive.

Not me.

I have no reason for being here.

Yet here I am.

Sad. Jealous. Angry. Crying.

As with everything, and with every time, it will pass.

And it will not look to be this bad from the other side.