Just as life is stuttering to an unwelcome halt, a bolt from the blue hits me right between the eyes and the surge of adrenaline sends me 50 feet into the air, riding the crest of my own exhaled breath. I surf along this tide of optimism and confidence. From up here I can see everything, from up here I can imagine anything, and up here I am safe from myself.
So what was I thinking? Why do I seek out all these imaginary barriers to place in front of my feet, forcing my life to be a costant stream of side-steps, hops, skips, jumps, and falls. I should be running headlong through this self-made incapacity, and coming out the other side in the fresh air of accomplishment.
I fool myself into thinking that it's good to be an also ran, to live with the herd, be indistinguishable from those around me. Ha ha ha, I stand out like the sorest of thumbs even when I'm doing the least of all. I'm kidding noone except occassionally myself. I'm loved and loathed, I'm admired and pitied, I'm sought after, and hid from, but I am never ever unnoticed.
So I'm managing to grasp mediocrity from the jaws of brilliance, and those barriers, those endless barriers of my own creation serve only to mask the truth for a little while, my own anti-depressant that I need more and more of each day just to stay alive. But from up here I see everything, from up here I see my life of deception, and from up here, I most importantly, don't care.
Ground zero, fallen angel, earthbound and broken, here is where I need to be. My battles will be won with my feet on the ground. I have to earn the right to fly, and the mind, body, and soul must be as one before they can depart this gravitational pull once and for always. And so, camped on the shores of the sea of uncertainty, my armies amass for the battle at sunrise, for sure it is a good day to live.
