Part of me feels like I’m about to collapse inward on myself, as if there is nothing left inside but a hollow core. There is nothing but the heaviness of form feebly upheld by nothing. The other part of me feels like I could reach out and hold the world in the palm of my hand, and then, crush it with ease like an over ripened piece of fruit.
It is like I am a divine creature infected with cancer. My power draining from me with every breath I take. Stuck in an interim. Somehow, I am beyond the reach of heaven, hell, or any place in between. Indeed, there is no one above or below to here my weeping.