Follow the quiet voice

I don't know how to talk about anything again. I feel the cold rain, and the storm doesn't scare me. I don't sleep lots these days, and then when I wake up and go work out, I'm sore the rest of the day. When I don't work out, I'm morose. When I sleep, I dream and I don't want to dream any more. Sometimes, I try to just armor up and get through this all, but even my currently semi-muscular frame has its limits. Inside my head, things make sense and then when I expose them to the rest of the world they crystallize and shatter like another frozen glass.

All this would seem to be able to be better than it is, and at the same time, I know there's not a way that it can actually be better. Direction and fortitude seem to be overly linked in my mind, and I perhaps need to just stand rather than try to run in the current. When the ocean calls, I want to go and I want to stay on shore.

I feel like I never get ahead in my job, I feel like I'm starting to shut down and not want to interact with anyone. I need to fight it, but various and sundry situations make fighting it a lot harder than I wish it was. Some days, I dread being me. Some days, I know I can never be anyone else.

No wings, no halos, just the way Home.