Through the muck and mud, she waded. She was in so deep it began to weigh down her very soul. Moving through felt like it would never end, that this would be hers to bear for all eternity. Some days it was so thick she could only crawling on all fours with her nose right up against the stench, the stink of all that is so damn uncomfortable and icky, guilt and shame, anger and confusion, regret and resentment, uncertainty and restlessness.
The dark skies above weren’t real, but were a reflection of the grossness below, sticking to every part of her body. The sun shone, but not for her. Darkness hung around the corners of her eyes blocking the light that seemed to shine down on everyone else. She shielded her eyes from others, lest she be burnt by the light reflecting from their own. To make it through another day of seeming agony was all she could do. The pain of wanting to be free from it, and through the other side made time slow to a painful pace, slow motion in contrast to life moving around her at normal speed. It seemed to taunt her, tease that time was not hers to experience with normalcy but excruciating, deliberate snails pace, increasing exponentially the time she spent having to feel every thing.