I feel like I’ve fallen into a well,
And it is so much effort to shout and reach out to anyone or even anything,
And no one bothers to even peep in,
Nor are they even remotely interested in knowing where I am.
Like I’m ostracized, exiled, banished, outcast.
Like I’m dying, receding, fading, falling off the radar, falling off the map, falling off everything that is known.
Hope is wilting and dying, as I fall further into the well with every passing day.
More and more contact with the outside is relinquished because of the phenomenal effort it takes to maintain it from 200 ft under.
I have to scream at the top of my voice to be faintly heard outside, and the beings outside only hear my words, not me, so I am basically abjectly alone.
Never will be seen, never will be fully heard.
There is the crushing weight of despair, but hope pushes me to reach out with great resistance, only to get a few bread crumbs of outside engagement (obtained with disproportionate effort), and then I fall back into the darkness again.
There seems no way out of this well,
and I only fall deeper and deeper into it,
moving farther and farther away from contact with the land.
My whole life has been this way.
I could never achieve anything more than a superficial fleeting intermittent connection with the world/outside.
I have always lived in a well, in the cave of wonders, in the interior castles, in the dungeons of my subconscious, in the underside of the iceberg of humanity.
Except for occasional short bursts of outer engagement which have exponentially reduced with age.
I am in the unknown, in the mystery, living it everyday,
While every other I see appears to be far far away.
And it is so much effort to shout and reach out to anyone or even anything,
And no one bothers to even peep in,
Nor are they even remotely interested in knowing where I am.
Like I’m ostracized, exiled, banished, outcast.
Like I’m dying, receding, fading, falling off the radar, falling off the map, falling off everything that is known.
Hope is wilting and dying, as I fall further into the well with every passing day.
More and more contact with the outside is relinquished because of the phenomenal effort it takes to maintain it from 200 ft under.
I have to scream at the top of my voice to be faintly heard outside, and the beings outside only hear my words, not me, so I am basically abjectly alone.
Never will be seen, never will be fully heard.
There is the crushing weight of despair, but hope pushes me to reach out with great resistance, only to get a few bread crumbs of outside engagement (obtained with disproportionate effort), and then I fall back into the darkness again.
There seems no way out of this well,
and I only fall deeper and deeper into it,
moving farther and farther away from contact with the land.
My whole life has been this way.
I could never achieve anything more than a superficial fleeting intermittent connection with the world/outside.
I have always lived in a well, in the cave of wonders, in the interior castles, in the dungeons of my subconscious, in the underside of the iceberg of humanity.
Except for occasional short bursts of outer engagement which have exponentially reduced with age.
I am in the unknown, in the mystery, living it everyday,
While every other I see appears to be far far away.
Journey to the Abstract 