Helpless, without recourse, the rug pulled out from beneath-your-feet sensation of abandoned vulnerability, of impending doom on all fronts: it sits heavy within me. Bored and tired, achy with life pains that refuse to dissipate, my regular habits for coaxing a soft landing to the day’s futility hang dead within me. It feels like I’ve got nothing; I am an empty shell of oblivion.
My thinking mind, wearing life’s duality around my neck like a collar, has no temporary solution, no respite to offer. I bounce from one empty diversion to another, making no progress, finding no exit from the invisible mousetrap.
Life is a hopeless struggle to the rhythm of silent music. I surrender completely and utterly. I listen to music. I go outside for a slow walk around the yard. I force a smile, and it helps. I repeat those words heard in deafening silence so long ago: it’s all okay, because it really is.
My smile broadens. It still really is.