When you see the smoke, you're halfway home

Chicago remembers a dream, Minneapolis manifested a nightmare, and right now is motionless living.

I’m hiding inside this dream, this nightmare, this nothing, but I can barely remember who I was back then.

That’s the catch with this depression; always the shortcomings, never the accomplishments.

Your person is a shell, filled with sadness and uneven breathing. And who would want to recall that? Who could be proud of that?

There is a certain panic that attacks when the face can’t break for breaths.

And yes, I am saying it’s like drowning. It’s like dying.

So pack away who you used to be; we cut her out long ago.