In the grey fog and the dark night
Well I'm still breathing...but sometimes, I just don't know...
Sometimes, I take stock of my life - sometimes, I just take a long look around and wonder: why? Why do I keep wasting my time with the same things, over and over and over again. Why do I keep going around in the same circles when I know they end up at the same points. And why do I keep asking myself the same questions when I only arrive at the same answers, time and time again.
Sometimes, it just feels un-worth it. I feel like I'm in a race but I'm not running, or I'm in a pit without a rope to pull myself out; or like I'm sinking into quicksand without another hand to give me help I need.
So terrified. Terrified of the future, of the deep darkness that I fear awaits me on the other side of this, of the empty spaces that keep filling up everything that I leave open in my life. Petrified of the future that sits, staring at me, waiting for my approach. Petrified of the vast expanse of nothingness that will confront me when I was hoping for bright sunshine all the while.
Afraid that once I arrive at the place I'm meant to be, there will be nothing but a grey sky awaiting me. Terrified of facing a world where there is no sunlight and no water to wash away all of the stains, and no healing to wipe away all the scars, and no warmth to cover over all the pain.
Like if I ever get off of the ledge I'm sitting on, the cliff with crumble and leave me falling into the open blackness of an endless night below me. Like if I try to raise my head and look up the rain will come pouring down again. And if I keep my eyes down trying to follow the path, I will stumble in the dark fog anyway.
Like a storm full of cold rain and icy wind and thick, grey fog that the eyes cannot penetrate is sitting over the top of the next hill that I am about to mount - just sitting there waiting to entrench me once again, hiding my eyes from the light, hiding my soul from the warmth, hiding my heart from any love...
The deepening riffs in my mind don't help. The open chasms, etched in my heart - causing flutters for reasons I don't comprehend don't help. The stones in the pit of my stomach when I start thinking about it and the moths eating away at my nerves...along with the weight of this cross on my shoulders and the metal hanging over my heart doesn't aid in lifting my mind from the burden, or lifting my knees from the ground or my palms from the black dirt they're planted in.
Oft times, I wonder why or if I'm not slowly dying...
Or maybe I am going numb, not feeling things so they'll all go away. Maybe it's insanity, rocking my mind to sleep like a little child's lullaby at night. Or maybe, it's all just part of being a human in this screwed up world that we live in. Maybe falling to pieces is all part of picking them back up again...
But that seems a little hopeful at times. It seems a little over optimistic, and maybe even a little naive. Like I'm still in preschool trying to play patti-cake in high school. Like I'm sitting in college, with purple ribbons tied in bows in my hair. Like I'm still holding my teddybear in the middle of a battlefield, and wondering why I'm there.
Maybe it is just me....or maybe, it's part of watching the path of life wending its way through the darkness, through the forest, through the nightmares in your mind...and coming out on the other side. Who knows. Maybe it really is part of growing up, part of getting it together, part of life. Maybe it really is okay to feel this way...but then again, maybe it isn't...
-RK
Sometimes, I take stock of my life - sometimes, I just take a long look around and wonder: why? Why do I keep wasting my time with the same things, over and over and over again. Why do I keep going around in the same circles when I know they end up at the same points. And why do I keep asking myself the same questions when I only arrive at the same answers, time and time again.
Sometimes, it just feels un-worth it. I feel like I'm in a race but I'm not running, or I'm in a pit without a rope to pull myself out; or like I'm sinking into quicksand without another hand to give me help I need.
So terrified. Terrified of the future, of the deep darkness that I fear awaits me on the other side of this, of the empty spaces that keep filling up everything that I leave open in my life. Petrified of the future that sits, staring at me, waiting for my approach. Petrified of the vast expanse of nothingness that will confront me when I was hoping for bright sunshine all the while.
Afraid that once I arrive at the place I'm meant to be, there will be nothing but a grey sky awaiting me. Terrified of facing a world where there is no sunlight and no water to wash away all of the stains, and no healing to wipe away all the scars, and no warmth to cover over all the pain.
Like if I ever get off of the ledge I'm sitting on, the cliff with crumble and leave me falling into the open blackness of an endless night below me. Like if I try to raise my head and look up the rain will come pouring down again. And if I keep my eyes down trying to follow the path, I will stumble in the dark fog anyway.
Like a storm full of cold rain and icy wind and thick, grey fog that the eyes cannot penetrate is sitting over the top of the next hill that I am about to mount - just sitting there waiting to entrench me once again, hiding my eyes from the light, hiding my soul from the warmth, hiding my heart from any love...
The deepening riffs in my mind don't help. The open chasms, etched in my heart - causing flutters for reasons I don't comprehend don't help. The stones in the pit of my stomach when I start thinking about it and the moths eating away at my nerves...along with the weight of this cross on my shoulders and the metal hanging over my heart doesn't aid in lifting my mind from the burden, or lifting my knees from the ground or my palms from the black dirt they're planted in.
Oft times, I wonder why or if I'm not slowly dying...
Or maybe I am going numb, not feeling things so they'll all go away. Maybe it's insanity, rocking my mind to sleep like a little child's lullaby at night. Or maybe, it's all just part of being a human in this screwed up world that we live in. Maybe falling to pieces is all part of picking them back up again...
But that seems a little hopeful at times. It seems a little over optimistic, and maybe even a little naive. Like I'm still in preschool trying to play patti-cake in high school. Like I'm sitting in college, with purple ribbons tied in bows in my hair. Like I'm still holding my teddybear in the middle of a battlefield, and wondering why I'm there.
Maybe it is just me....or maybe, it's part of watching the path of life wending its way through the darkness, through the forest, through the nightmares in your mind...and coming out on the other side. Who knows. Maybe it really is part of growing up, part of getting it together, part of life. Maybe it really is okay to feel this way...but then again, maybe it isn't...
-RK
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