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| <<<>>> |
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The Failure Within |
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| Created by Decius at
| [+ favourites]
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When I was a child, I dreamt of flying. When I grew up, I surrounded myself with airy ideas.
I think about all the bad things, even unreal ones, potential hazards along the path of time. Even the real beauty, remarkable successes of the present, in my palm, don’t alleviate my immobility.
Is it depression? I think depression is all consuming. Knowing that one will never escape it. Or perhaps that is just the worst kind. I am a monkey hiding in a tree. I am scared of all the creatures that slither and crawl, and I want maximum visibility towards my future.
But death is natural, just as each breath is. Falling is natural, just as being safe in this tree is. Yet, I fear one end of the real world much more than another.
No success in challenges, bitten by those behind me and abandoned by those in front. Pushed aside to make way for the strong. Pushed aside, over and over. Overpowered when I tried to stand firm. Stomped on, punished for my defiance.
I hide in my tree, as a monkey. Because…
I have no faith in the success of standing firm.
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| Created by Decius at
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