The Bipolar Compass

Ready. Set. Sail!

I crashed. I’m so depressed. It feels like I’m being strangled. Lying in my bed, I can feel the weight of my worries pressing down on my chest; grabbing at my throat. I’m being suffocated. Tears stream down my cheeks like raindrops. They won’t stop. I can’t breathe. No one can hear me. I stay up late because I don’t want to go to bed. I sleep in until the day is over because I don’t want to face my own disappointment. I feel hollow.

Wandering through Purgatory I stumble upon what once was a lush forest. All the trees are dead. Leaves long gone from their branches. They’re lifeless. A cold breeze blows past my cheeks. I make my way over to the tallest tree. In front of it is a wooden chest the size of a small child. It’s decorated with gold leaves and gold trim. It has one word inscribed on it’s face: SANATOR.

I lift it open and find a curious sight.

It just lies there. A short, gaunt little creature. Limbs and body like twigs, twisted and weaved together in neverending tangles. Eyes black as tar, oval and large like eggs. He gets up and looks deep into my eyes. I feel a momentary sense of calm. He stretches out his hands. He wants my soul. He wants to heal it. But it’s so worn.

“Please help me. I feel so worthless.”

He nods his head and my body falls to the dirt. My body lays lifeless on the cold snowy ground but my gaze is fixated on this creature. I reach out to put my hands in his and close my eyes. It’ll take some time but he says I will be healed.

Hopefully soon.