It feels like ...

Knowing there's an avalanche coming that you can't outrun.
Walking with weights attached to your ankles.
Skidding on black ice and praying you don't run into anything.
Doing that stupid test in swimming lessons where they make you tread water for half an hour even though you know that eventually you're going to give out and start to sink.
Failing swimming lessons because you can't do something fancy and pointless like a somersault off the diving board.
Having the power cut out right in the middle of a really good film.
Dropping your book in the bathtub.
Struggling through a snowstorm, when the snow comes up to your chest and all around you it's so white you can't even tell what direction you're walking in.
Keeping an ugly secret from your best friend.
Losing your paddle when you're out in a canoe, in the middle of a lake.
Getting caught in a sudden downpour which soaks you to the bone ... on your way to a wedding.

I know there's hope. I know it won't last forever. I know I need to try. But right now, I'd rather just dwell in my own hopelessness and self-pity and shut out the rest of the world. I just want to hide away until this passes, take cover from my own disease.