The tumble isn’t so immediate. Little nudges and pieces crumble beneath my feet, but nothing to insinuate that I would fall. Each step taken, though, creates another echo of rustled and jostled pieces of my life. It doesn’t take long when one particular piece dislodges everything.
Perhaps the details don’t matter to you; after all, they hardly matter to me. The little things adds up and create something inexplicable when I go to say that I’ve been hitting a low. But it’s not something that I’ve admitted. To most, it doesn’t seem as though anything is out of the norm; to some, I’m merely taking some time to think and be alone; and to perhaps no one but me, I’m quickly unraveling.
I don’t want to hurt myself, but the thoughts are there. They exist. It is like reading a cryptic crossword problem and you notice the plethora of possibilities, but don’t necessarily entertain them all. Or at least that is what I’d like to believe.
Medication offers no solace. The pills merely give me a few hours’ break from before I feel it all again. Funny, isn’t it that I complain of being void of emotion, yet this is something that I can feel its entirety.
And it is times like these that I remember that I’m not so untouchable. In fact, I stand quite the opposite – I’m just plain vulnerable.
Image via Flickr (user: nomadic_lass)