Lately, my days have this sense of uneasiness - as though I'm free-falling into a dense fog. Behind me are misty objects of where I was. In front of me, a thick cloud obscures what is to come.
I don't know who pushed me into this speedy descent - one of those many things not under my control. So I do my best to control what I can now – my flailing arms and the occasional scream or two.
I work to make my unexpected tumbles into breath-taking feats of acrobatics. Once in a while, you might be impressed. More often, you might cringe as I bounce painfully off the side of life's cliff. Yeah, I ... meant to do that.
Years ago, I wasn't too concerned with hitting the ground. Now, the rapidly passing air roars in my ears; the musty smell of dirt grows stronger in my nostrils. Pressing on my skin is the inescapable approach of that impending moment: when my free-fall becomes a sudden stop. When I transitioned from life-filled movement into static nothingness.
I can hope for better times on that flat plane of death. For now, each morning greets me with an ever-growing presence of a wall. Not an inconvenient obstacle to overcoming. Not a challenging monolith to puzzle over. But an inevitable barrier of finality - of that ultimate splat.
Aside from that, how's your day going?
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