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Friday, March 08, 2013

this darn wet rock

Every day feels impossible.

I was taught to set a goal, stretch it a bit further. I believed in excellence, which is also biblical. My motto was that shit happens every day, that's why we are overcomers, which meant we ought to revel in solving problems.

Nowadays of course my days are much mellower. Instead of the kind of impossible that is revelry in endless possibilities, it is the impossible that is what it says on the can: impossible.

Everything is just so hard to do, the difficulty is surreal. Like trying to climb a wall of rock covered in moisture and moss - in a dream, so you keep falling, of course. If I try to do something I should do beyond making dinner (for human or cat) or taking a shower in my daily activities, I feel that almost-drop one does when clinging on to that wet rock with fingertips. With that, you now understand why I would rather stay at the bottom of that cliff face, isolated and alone and far away from attempts at climbing.

(Well, I did enjoy abseiling more than rock-climbing as a younger girl. Dropping down is exhilirating and climbing up is excruciating. Getting to the top is more like relief than a sense of accomplishment, so rock climbing isn't really that fun for a high. To me anyway.)

Two options, the way I see it: look at the cliff and feel destitute that I cannot scale it. Or look away and just enjoy being at the bottom of the cliff.

Or maybe, there is another way out of this little valley or underground cave or whichever, that doesn't require climbing wet rock. It will however take years to get around it, just to get around it. More temperate terrain, but it takes far longer.

Ah well.

In the meantime, tears form for the pain of being trapped below, and numbness from that pain through placing said predicament in my blind spot. Neither is the better option but for an abnormal like me, I don't have very much else to choose.