I’m standing on the edge of the dark waters.
The cool darkness laps at my feet calling me in, begging me to dive in.
It would be so easy, so much easier to fall in. Let the dark waters encompass me.
It’s hard to ignore their call.
It’s hard to stand on the edge, with one foot in and one foot out. Trying to balance the pull of normalcy with the alluring waves of drowning in darkness.
The waters pull a little harder daily, enticing, calling. Making you wonder, maybe just a little. Maybe if I engage it just a little I can float on the top. Float on those waters with out being pulled under, without drowning.
You can’t, I can’t.
The water is deep, the undercurrent pulls, step to far in and you're pulled under.
I’m on the edge and I'm being pulled in, but this time, this time I know about the current.
I know how fast it can pull you out without you even realizing it.
This time I have reached the other way, grabbed for the shore, the sun the light.
It’s harder, I’m weary.
As strong as the current is, I have to be twice as strong.
Gripping, slipping, pulling, at the shore.
I pull and I pull because it’s not just about me anymore, its about them too and I pull for them.
I reach out for help because of them.
It’s for them that I grab the rope.
Help to pull myself up. I am no longer scraping at the ground on my own desperate to pull up, I have help.
With every pull my muscles get stronger, the path easier and I get farther and farther away from that edge, from the lapping water of the dark.
I’m not out yet, it’s still lapping at my feet, licking my toes with it’s sweet lies and unfilled promises.
So I reach out and I pull myself further.
One day, one day soon (I hope and pray) it will just be a dark shadow.
So far away you can barely see, hard to make out if it’s a puddle, a pond or an ocean. Far enough away that it’s lapping waves cannot touch me, entice me, ask me to dive in.
But for now, it’s right there, lapping at my feet, grabbing at my ankles trying to pull.
So I reach out, I grab on and I pull.