Trauma.

Every time I'm on the verge of something profound, I end up throwing it all away for comfort and safety. If I could ask myself a million questions and expect honest answers I'd start with, "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" regarding just about all of my life choices. I'm not trying to be negative, just honest. It's not as though some drastic thing has effected me and I stand at a crossroads trying to make the right decision and knowing all the wrong roads I've gone down. No, this is more about a challenge to myself.

Don't get pulled back down, into nothing. I stand at the edge of the Abyss and spit - waiting to see how long it takes to hear it hit the bottom. Or, that's what I tell myself. If I were to crawl out of the empty, primordial void and walk away whole then I'd be doing well. If I were to crawl out with a fierce contempt and brash will, well then I'd be doing very well. What fear strikes out is that of a battle for survival in the deep which brings me to the edge of nothing and I slip at the top. Crashing on the nothing below; black and vacant.