Lying on the floor

You spend so much of your time and energy trying not to fall to the ground, it's weirdly consoling to decide to lie down on the floor. It's hard, but oddly comforting; to know that you can't fall anymore, cause you're already on the floor. Zulu comes, wagging his tail, trying to understand what has gotten into me, and honestly I don't know either - what is this random instinct? If someone walks in right now, I don't know what answer I'll have as to what I'm doing - I don't know either.

So much time spent, avoiding sadness, bargaining to make it go away, maybe it's better to just let go the resistance and feel it - let it flow through every vien, and let every tear have it's signature. So much effort spent trying to keep things together, maybe I should just let go and see what happens, whether things survive or break to pieces. Either way, the effort doesn't seem to be leading me anywhere, might as well let the wind run its course, blow away the things that are just empty shells now.

Sitting on the floor, that state of limbo, where you start to decide to go back to life, to go back to action and reaction. But it'll be so easy, so comforting, to lie down again, standing can hurt so much. There's nothing to life if you never stand, but when the good parts fade to the background, and the bad parts get the best of you, life feels like trying to solve a puzzle that has no solution; pushing and pulling against a wall that can't be broken; speaking words restlessly when nobody is listening. What should I do now? Should I lie down again? Should I stand up?

Zulu comes and sits beside me, giving company to my tired soul. He makes the wounds hurt less.