Sometimes I just feel stuck. Unable to move. Unable to do anything. Anything.
Words turn into whispers in the wind. Movement slows as though with heavy, laden limbs.
The world swirls around at a frightening pace. Unaware of troubles that brew below.
Cheery faces oblivious to despair. Life swallowing them faster and faster.
How is one world stuck inside another that continues to go on and on? To go on and not have an inkling of the stagnant pool inside it?
Scratching and clawing, yelling and screaming. Sometimes a smiling face nods in my direction.
The path behind me, crumbling with each step I take. Gingerly stepping forward onto slippery, unknown surfaces, with feeble attempts to refrain from sliding.