There are days when I just can’t. Can’t get out of bed, can’t get my head in the game, can’t even produce words to explain this feeling of cant-ness. I just can’t.
Today is one of those days. I find myself starting on a project and ending on Facebook stalking people with deep encompassing sadness. Can’t seem to get my pants pulled all the way up without taking a break, but my impulse is exceptional when clicking through 5-year-old profile pictures. I don’t actually have feelings for these people and their lives without me, but I simple can’t, so I stalk on.
It is in these moments I feel this ever lasting fear that the world is going on without me, that those around me will succeed and strive while I will sit in the background and sink. I ask myself what is becoming of my being? Are my goals worthy? Should I stack my money in a pile and watch its very existence burn? It is in these moments that my mind fights to reflect on the good while all that is visible is the bad.
The day before my senior year of high school my group of girl friends gathered to chalk paint our car windows. It was the ultimate statement of seniority. No Junior could resist the gawking slurs like “Bow Down” and “Get On Your Knees” we garnished with hearts on our early 2000 makes and models.
As we pulled away from our clever yet completely unoriginal session my car was met with a tree’s trunk. One left turn and a small drop of water caused Susie the Isuzu Rodeo to spin out of control and screech to its demising death. Though it was not the tree that I feared, or the pile of glass surrounding me, it was the lack of feeling I had for getting out alive.
Like many my life is a battle of feeling, and like many I chose to let it settle behind my brick piled walls. I don’t share this for pity, but simply because it has become evident that many feel the same. We are all a little bit damaged, and maybe that’s okay.