Long ago, or maybe not so long ago, I faced what many consider a generous amount of tragedy and trauma, but at the end of the day, I was tough broad. I still am. There was no stopping to feel sorry for myself, and there was certainly, no offering up my problems for others to handle. Even if I had desired this, I didn’t have the time. All I could was put one foot in front of the other, and that is exactly what I did. Until, I lost control. I must have fallen asleep at the wheel, but in any case, my life was never quite the same again.
Gradually, time passed. My quality of life grew. I started to achieve, at least some, of my dreams. What else could someone faced with my fate ask for? Nothing, is the correct answer.
Nevertheless, my mind has always been titillated by the most basic ancient of questions. Questions of meaning. Questions of purpose. Questions of Truth. You get the idea. During the period where I was becoming more “stable,” I had focused my energy on asking and answering deeper questions about myself, but then I made a mistake. I focused my mirror to the outside. The more I looked around I found darkness and chaos. Where I expected to find meaning I found the deep void of nothingness. In attempt to reorient myself, it is as if I had absorbed part of the nothingness into my core. My humanity being as important as pretentious metaphor pointing at nothing.
I will crawl out of this. Or I will not. Those are the only two options.