I fell the other morning. Hard. Directly onto my knee. My ankle rolled in my platform shoes and I hit the ground before I could catch myself. And I’ve got knee problems to begin with. It hurt so bad that I thought I may have done nerve damage. But the next day I was fine. Just felt like I had a case of shin splints. But that wasn’t the point. I can get through the physical pain. What I couldn’t escape was the feeling that I indeed am fallible and that absolutely no one is coming to save me. I wailed “Ow, ow, this fucking hurts,” as I hobbled to Dunkin Donuts, and not a single soul heard me. Not a single soul cared. I got what little pity I could from my co-workers that morning (after relaying a tale of “ha ha, I ate shit on the sidewalk”), but so what. At the end of the day, they don’t care, and as I lay my head on the pillow each night, I truly am in this alone.
It feels like everything is crumbling around me. I’m working hard to secure just what it is I’m doing or where I’m going, but all my dreams as of late have a funny way of completely shattering. I was looking to upgrade to a new apartment. It’s not looking monetarily possible now, despite my wide-eyed idealism. My weight loss has entered the “fuck it” mode, though I’m trying to course correct. I can’t go anywhere in this city without flashing my papers, all thanks to a power-hungry sentient pool noodle who’s on his way out in November. I thought someone came back and may have actually wanted to begin making plans with me. That left. Again. With no signs of returning. Doesn’t matter if it’s true or not, I don’t feel it coming back anytime soon. The sands of the hourglass have slipped through my fingers, and I’m left standing on uneven ground, finding it harder and harder to maintain my balance as we enter the final quarter of the year.
These are the dark times. The times where it feels like there’s nowhere to go but down. I don’t want to be dour, I don’t want to take the black pill. But nothing seems to be going right. If it’s always darkest before the dawn, we’re in the middle of the longest night ever. Something’s gotta give, here. I feel the mold has some cracks, but has yet to fully break. And when it does, pray to God you’re planted firmly on the ground enough to where you can hold on for dear life. Because the impending earthquake is going to be a doozy.
This is the hardest I’ll ever have to fight. That we’ll have to fight. It’s not going to get easier. I don’t know how much lower we can sink in a world that tells you everything you can see with your own two eyes isn’t happening. I’m trying to be optimistic over things, but it may be best for my equilibrium to just stand still and ride it out. Let myself feel the fury within me. Get mad. Look for ways to change it. It couldn’t hurt, right? A change would do you good, right? Maybe the fall back to earth was just what I needed in order to move on. A little self-realization may be just what I needed to find new footing once again.
Or I could go kick rocks. Remains an option.
2 thoughts on “equal footing on a cracked foundation”
Well, you know what they say. It’s not about having an easy life, but the strength to live through a hard one. Sounds like a rough time for you right now. Thought I’d drop a little comment to spur you on. Keep on going!
thank you so much