A wave of sadness into a storm of chaos….

A wave that comes and goes as it pleases would usually be welcomed with open arms.

Like ones on a beach, or a wave of success.

Unfortunately for this one, there's no such happy greeting,

But more of a distaste for an unwanted guest.

A wave that sits in my mind without any real reason.

Constantly changing in size.

Some days it's as small as a few drops of water that just linger, as the morning dew does on blades of grass. Something barely even noticed.

Other days, there's an eerie calm, and what was before is now a vast ocean of confusion, fear, and uncertainty hidden behind a blank expression.

A sea that sways back and forth, never fully knowing where the wind is coming from.

But knowing it won't go away.

But most days it's like a violent storm.

A storm that, once it's there, it feels like it will never stop.

And the one small drop or eerie calm both seem like bliss in comparison.

What makes it worse is that the storms can last anywhere from a few minutes to a few months.

With shades of blues, purples, and dark reds mixing with violets, grays, and black.

The storm is always beautifully terrifying.

Sometimes bringing tsunamis and flooding, caused by underwater earthquakes of the mind.

Other times, making whirlpools that come with currents that can rip apart anything caught in them.

Always exposing the monsters that live in its depths.

Monsters fed by anxiety, anger, and sorrow, with a side of disgust and self-depreciation.

Suffocation by colors once so vibrant, now muddied by fear and disappointment.

It's never easy trying to save yourself from drowning in the chaos of your own thoughts.

Nothing is worse than the uncertainty of your own brain saying, “I can’t fix it.”

The breaking point is followed by a brief moment of release.

The walls of my mind, unable to contain it any longer.

Water escapes in the form of silent tears and a temporary lapse in reason.

The storm that has spent all this time building has finally reached its worst state.

After fits of “why?” and “what ifs?”

Screaming matches with anxiety and self-doubt.

Not being able to get out of bed or work on the things you know you need to get done, without feeling like it’s not worth it.

For just a moment, it finally pauses.

The feeling of dread stops for just a minute.

Then the process repeats itself until that wave once again turns into a storm.

A beautiful sadness, vibrantly dull.