I have been away for a while now.
I am back.
I am trying not to fall apart.
Living broke me.
The existence I knew shattered before my very eyes.
I lay wounded, bleeding.
I have nursed my wounds.
I wobble, bending my knees in a bid to regain balance.
I am back on my feet again, barely standing.
I am slowly healing.
Life, as I knew it, has evaporated into nothingness.
I struggle to find normalcy.
No matter how hard I try, I cannot attain it.
It is like grasping after smoke and walking on sinking sand.
The more I try, the deeper I sink.
A friend threw me a rope of wisdom.
It is a lifeline that has helped me inch out of this quicksand of terror, suffocating pain, and despair.
He told me to hold on.
To keep moving forward.
A step, an inch, or a millimeter at a time is enough.
That is what I am doing now.
It is not perfect.
But at least I am starting to breathe again.