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How does one force oneself to move though the smothering black iron wall of anxiety? I apathetically change from Pj to Pj, needing only to wash sheets, towels and Pj's.
What is my line in the sand? Down to tap water? No TP? Will the ocean wash away the line before I finish putting it down? Am I no more than the tide washed grains?
My world reduced to no more than flat planes, no worlds here, just 2D paper print escapism. Ancient history is more real than present, tomorrows are never acknowledged and only seen in reverse through mirrors.
To reach out, to pick up the phone, to open my mouth,........ just the thought of doing so... drives me deeper within. My nest, an illusion of safety. It's hold comforts me all the same.
Looking in the mirror, out at tomorrow as it steals my breath away. Once more tell myself I will get dressed and go forth, tomorrow. I see reflected and trapped, tomorrow, tomorrows......many times, tomorrows.
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Nammu
…Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. …...
Desiderata Max Ehrmann
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