When wandering in the forest, lost without any sense of direction, some marker, a tree, perhaps, may become familiar as you pass it again and again. Eventually, the tree isn't even necessary as the path beneath your weary feet becomes just as worn as your patience. The grass is ripped up and eventually all that can be seen is the dirt and muddy wreckage of what was once lush greenery. Only after hours of drudgery, hope risen and struck down time and again, and the mounting of fatigue until it became so great that even the greatest will could not serve to move your listless body. And when you finally collapse, you look up to realize...
I've been here before.
That's where I am in my life. I have gotten up time and again. I have battled through the incessant onslaught of my enemies and swallowed my cries inspired by so-called "friendly fire." I have given up and somehow found again the energy, the willingness, or even the desperation to continue. And now I'm laying here, my entire being begging for sweet dissociation from all sensations, and I'm looking up at the world and wondering why I should get up again.
In some way or another, I have frustrated, hurt, or disappointed so many of those that are supposed to be important to me. They want more, better, faster, stronger. All I want is peace. Silence. Perhaps even...well, that special sleep.
