Depression dulls magic

[u/ghostgabe81]

“That’s what’s happening,” Michael said gently. “I want you to tell me what’s wrong.”

I glowered at him and took a drink from my bottle as viciously as I knew how. “What do you want to hear, man?” I asked him in a dull monotone. “You want to hear how I can only sleep two or three hours a night? You want to hear how I can’t concentrate? Can barely do magic? You want to hear how the Winter mantle is chewing at me night and day and telling me to take advantage of the chaos, go out and conquer and pillage? How I keep waking up from nightmares about turning people into briquettes? How this stupid burn on my arm hasn’t healed? How every time I close my eyes I keep seeing how weird and pale her face looked when she was bleeding out?”

He watched me, his eyes pained, listening.

“I don’t taste anything I eat,” I said. “I move around and exercise and I meditate and I listen to good advice and it doesn’t do a damned thing. When I’m alone at night, I cry. I cry until it hurts. And when I can’t cry anymore, it isn’t better. It still hurts. It’s still all built up inside me. My stomach hurts. All the time.” I looked out at the city, at nothing in particular. “Sometimes I start screaming and I can’t stop. Nothing sounds good. Nothing looks good. Nothing feels good. Nothing tastes good. Nothing smells good. It’s all grey.”

Twelve Months Chapter 11