When you're sinking, the shower is never hot enough. Your bed isn't as soft. The dark will have too much light. Your stomach empty and yet full of distaste. The clothes you manage to drape on your body will become coarse, itchy. Music doesn't soothe anymore. The only melody is the rhythm of your heart slamming against your rib cage. The pounding in your head just a bitter echo.
Maybe there will be peace at the bottom.
Maybe when you can sink no further, the heaviness subsides.
I suppose that's something to look forward to.