I had to find the passage back/ To the place I was before…*
Where do you find yourself at this instant? Suppose you lie on your belly on the forest floor and see this in front of your face? Who are you? When is it? How have you found yourself here – on purpose, through an accident, in a time when the only sanity survives in this place.
The days blur into light/dark/light/dark. You flee into memories – and the absurdity of finding meaningful actions to fill your days. You can’t remember how it feels to be lonely, enchanted, “mad as hell and unwilling to take it anymore”. (Extra points for knowing where that last phrase comes from.)
If you have time to be afraid, to be bored, to long for a barely remembered past, you have time to write. You know the perpetual Breakthrough offer: send us words. Please send in Word doc to my personal email: email@example.com
I can’t do this alone.
*–Hotel California, The Eagles
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