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Standing in the Gap

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Hi love,

So, life has been a bit of a mess lately, hasn’t it? I know it’s been hard to keep your head above water most days. Most days you feel waterlogged and completely hijacked by ghosts that come out of corners you didn’t even know existed. This fatigue, this utter exhaustion, is more than you can take, and you’re not sure if you’re going to make it. The days get colder and darker, just like your soul, and you’re sure there will never be warmth or sunshine again.

This fatigue, this utter exhaustion, has teeth and a tongue that speaks incessantly into your ears. It gnaws on your mind with unrelenting insistence, burrows into your soul with unyielding persistence. Sometimes, it’s all you can see. It’s all you can do not to rip your own eyes out, to rip out your ears and your brain and your very soul, just for the chance at rest. Just for a chance, the smallest chance, that oblivion could be your salvation. And yet the act of trying to rest is like laying down in the jaws of death, laying down in a swarm of bees that burrow deep into your brain, vibrating and heating up and melting everything into mush. No wonder you don’t want to go to bed.

This fatigue, this utter, utter exhaustion, makes everything else ten times worse. You don’t quite feel attached to your body. You’re not quite sure of what’s real and what’s not. Sleep calls to you, but it’s a siren song, beckoning you to ruin. No, best stay in the middle and not seek solace on the shores to the left or to the right. Best not to even look overboard, because you might be dragged over before you even know what’s happening, and then where would you be?

Everything is worse when you’re dealing with it alone. This loneliness, this all-encompassing, soul-crushing loneliness, made ever worse for the presence of caring people who want to know how you are. Made ever worse by the fact that you don’t know yourself. You’re craving intimacy with yourself, and yet that would involve looking overboard, at least considering the sirens that call you. And no, we can’t do that.

This is the loneliness of not having a soul. The longing for a soulmate that only resides within you, the one that fled and abandoned ship long ago, without a hint of direction or promise of return. You don’t know when your soul will come back to you, when your spirit will decide you’re good enough to house it once again. Finding out would involve looking overboard and trying to spot clues as to where that spirit might have gone. Where it might have fled is anyone’s guess. Whether it’s worth even trying to find again is a foregone conclusion.

This fatigue. This. Utter. Exhaustion.

Will it ever cease? Will you ever feel whole and vibrant and vital and virile and alive again? Will you ever feel tethered to reality again? Will you ever stand on top of the world again?

Does it even matter? Has it ever?

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