it s the destination and the crash

    Cornered, forsaken and dizzy, I decided to bear my cross on an already numb shoulder and a stiff neck. My muscles did not agree, they forgot their primary task, being muscles.

I gathered what was left of me and left.
It’s not the trip, it’s the destination.
To my surprise, the voyage was not as bad as I thought.
During the whole 6 hours trip I was not there, I was in the zone, a weird dream like state.
I like how our brain is wired.
 I am sure we are all born with an on/off switch, and when our body can not take it no more, the brain turns the switch off.
 Voila.
And I saw myself for the 1^st time. I saw myself through the eyes of the person who gave me my break.
 It scared the hell out of me.
Cadaverous silhouette, hollow eyes, just-came-back –from-the- dead and lost.
I was welcomed.
I was treated like a human being; I was given a chance to deal with my sickness.
One step at a time, I started by learning how to sit down without shaking, how to take a shower, how not to be scared.
I could just sit down and enjoy the moment without receiving continuous, venomous injections of hatred and meanness.
I was taken care of.
It took time but I was able to walk, ½ a block, a block, 2 blocks…
I became less depressed, still the ground is swaying under my feet, still I can not get a job, and still I can not live a normal life.
Not yet.
And for no apparent reason I crashed.
Life is not done with me yet.
Life refused to let me leave the prison she built for me; I am a prisoner of city called vertigoville.