Felled, you wait for something to happen: but nothing does. Each day you wake up, and it is still there, poking you in the ribs, Remember me? I live in you now. You can't get rid of me.
Like a person looking into a little world inside a glass box, you tap on the walls. Let me in. I want to try this again. But there is no door that you can see. You try to find one, walking the perimeter, looking inside. Sometimes, what you see makes you feel strong and empowered: I can do this, I must try to get back in. But other times, what you see terrifies you, and you want to crawl back into the darkness, and envelop yourself in sadness, and so you wait, patiently, to be ready to look some more.