Somewhere I have been before

I'm finding, there are too many things to hold my attention. Too many things to simply distract from whatever it was I had meant to do.

So much to entertain and attract and keep our minds from the things we meant them to be upon.

In this society, I am beginning to fail. It is beginning to get the best of me. It is so easy...

I thought I had placed safeguards between me and this culture of ease. Removed myself from the sort of slumbering life most live these days. I'd taken their pictures down and thier images out of my path and I'd refused to take part in their dramas. And yet, their way of life still creeps in, slipping under my door.

It is too easy...

I used to tell myself what my strengths were to remind myself that I was not without them. I used to feel strong and resilient. I used to think of myself as an artist.

I do not think much about it, these days. And I must wonder why. What have I done to cause such apathy? How have I become so empty of the worlds that once filled my mind to the brim? Or have I?

Exhaustion, running deep like a river in a cave, is carving through some part of me. I can feel it hollowing out rooms and spaces where there were once none. And it moves with an energy all its own, allowing me no piece of it.
But it must be harbored. It must be caught. It must be dried up before these spaces make the surface cave, too.

I am making my way toward a decision, toward a cliff edge that I have seen before. It is still just as cold, just as blustery here as it was the last time I stood before this place. I am older now, and I know a few ways down - or perhaps I only know how long the fall is when you jump. But that was years ago, and it is different now. I am different now.

Will you stand here with me and jump if I jump?
That could make all the difference.