Now leave your voicemail after the beep.

"Hello,
I'm sorry I didn't come to the phone.
My chest feels like a thousand storms,
they are raging with hurricanes that go on for stories,
they had sunk every bit of peace and rest that voyaged from a good day.
A whirlpool in the middle had sucked in the overboarded sailors, normal sleeping hours, good appetite and the remaining fairy dust that I had saved for a rainy day.
And I,
I feel like the illustrated cow that is always drawn in the middle of a cartoon hurricane.
The higher and smaller the cow is,
the higher it is on the hurricane classification category.
In short, I am the dot in this weather.

I am constantly falling but also, suspended in mid air
Also, I'm being flung in circles and circles of loneliness with depression acting as a centripetal force of this never ending hurricane of sadness.
The speed of circling for 200 km/hr feels like slow motion after days.
Then, it's like I am in water
Except that,
I am submerged in the constant dread of not living my life to the fullest.
Then, I discover that I can breathe underwater
but I can't swim.
So, in that moment,
I am stuck in the mindset of wanting to to live my life and knowing that I have all the power to do exactly that,
but what is the point?

Sometimes when I am lucky,
I end up in the eye of the storm, like now.
It allows me to get enough of my shit together to construct a poem using metaphors and fancy sailing words like "voyaged".
I have sat here for a few days now.
All I hear are waves crashing against each other and the wind howling my name.
These storms feel too angry for them to be over any time soon.
I don't have a plan yet because getting out seems to be impossible at the moment.
I can't hear myself think over the destruction.
I'll send a message in a bottle when the storms calm down."

I mean,

"Hello,
I'm sorry, my phone died."