A Diary of Soul (Unedited Version)

52. the horizon

Have you ever gotten anxious because of how far you've come?

You look back and get so dizzy because...what if you fall and have to start crawling back up again?

You don't want to think about that so you look forward, and it's now about questioning how you're going to continue.

Baby steps, baby steps. We've been doing this forever...or as long as we could try. But now you're paralyzed.

Going back is too damning and moving forward, too daunting.

There are no diagonals in this crossroad. I feel like even improvement, no matter how slow, is something I can still find a way to somehow sabotage...after all I've proven to be good at that unfailingly.

I'm sitting in the midst of my dreams. I have dusted the corners, I have glossed the surface. But I'm falling into a loop.

I have cleaned my wounds, and my scars are fading, and my mind feels alive but my steps are waning.

I am scared.

I am scared of moving forward.
I don't think I know how to anymore.

I could have new wings because these ones are crumbling
...have crumbled
...no longer exist.

But for some reason I avoid them.
Why do I resist?

Someone in a dream once talked about The Horizon, and how brilliant she is, and how she gave them the confidence to keep singing. There was more, but that is all I can recall.

I feel like Midnight.
Caught between the pull of dusk and dawn.

Sometimes, it feels like I'm walking through a graveyard.
Sometimes, I feel like I'm laying in a morgue.

I try remembering the brilliance of the sun.
And keep pushing myself towards The Horizon.

13:30
18.01.23