The fall from grace is far, quick and painful. The bottom of the pit where it leaves you is lonely with no hope.
Only a month ago I was on the top of the world. All the optimism with the world at my feet, climbing the mountain in front of me fearlessly with goals in sight. That feels like ancient history now.
It’s easy to say you’re unstoppable and fearless when you’re climbing up the mountain, every day seeing yourself closer to a dream or a goal, until suddenly your rope is cut and you find yourself face down at the bottom. You wonder how it happened so fast. How, when things were going so well, so perfectly, did you suddenly end up so far behind.
And now there is a war, a loud voice, most of my body and mind, even my heart telling me it’s worthless, I’m worthless, just give up, what’s the point of it all anyway? But somewhere my soul whispers, somewhere deep down, so far back I wonder how I even hear it, but it’s the reason I keep moving on. That single 5% of me that refuses to let go, will pull me out of bed in the morning, even if it’s at the very last second. That sliver inside me that pushes me on.
All the tears I cry where no one can see, the feelings inside I don’t want to bear, but I must keep moving. And I won’t stop. Even when I’m so beat down, I’m crawling weakly to push through, I’ll keep moving. And one day, maybe one day, it won’t hurt so bad to fall. Either way, I’ll keep getting up.