Feeling like I have been here before. |
Interned. Where do you turn when you don’t know who you are, when the jumble of life closes over your head. Lives pass over faster, swirl around my head as fog sets in and clouds my eyes. I have not forgotten what was done in the name of what is right. I fought, yet could not see where my blows had landed, for it was all within my head. The morning came, and I had lost my hold on all around me. The fog grew thicker, my feet sunk into the sand, and forward motion ceased to be. Holding. Holding. I waited for what seemed to be eternity, and blinked my eyes. Time slowed. An empty hollow grew within, filling with a dreaded void, a shell devoid of feeling, yet causing pain. This is not the me I wanted to be. This is all too sudden. I bow my head, lips and nostrils beneath the water’s surface, the warmth of my bath enveloping, releasing. Do not make me crawl out of here. Falling. I know not where this journey leads, nor what I shall do when I get to the end of the line, but whatever awaits for me there, may it not take more out of my being than I have left to give. How does one feel full, when emptiness is the only thing left within a darkened heart? When can I return to the surface, the sepia tones that mark normalcy within the range of my world? Where is the grace that was once promised to me? The priest has left, the doctor as well, as both have withdrawn for the night, to ponder my condition. I rebel, and claw wildly at the shell of my coffin, at the cold reality of a concrete floor. As I tumble towards rock bottom, I release the last remnants of safety remaining. Bottom hits, and I alone can look up from here, a platform to the abyss, last chance before there is nothing more to break my fall. I must climb, with little to nothing supporting me, to where I can eventually reach out for assistance. No rope can reach these depths. I hold the key to my future in my hands now. Climb. |