I’ve dug and dug into the deep hole that exists within my mind. I’m convinced that if I dig deep enough I’ll hit upon a memory, a type of revelation, a sudden stroke of inspiration that will illuminate my way. ‘Just wait a moment’ I seem to say to the world. ‘Give it some time and I’ll figure it out, I’ll be with the rest of you.’ Now I’m afraid I’ve dug myself so deep into the chasm that I won’t find my way out.
Trapped within the boundaries of a narrative I’ve constructed to explain myself, I can’t offer any alternative. I’m the me of the past, at best the me of the present, but never the me of the future. I’ve never been able to grasp her. As soon as I’ve made any progress it gets relegated to the past, no longer a marker of what could come. I banish it, along with the other relics of my achievements to the periphery of my consciousness, out of my reach. And yet, there is a voice of reason, it cuts through mind like a surgical scalpel and reminds me – pleads with me to remember that I can change it all in an instant. But I don’t trust that voice. So I stay where it can’t reach me, muffled by the sound of incessant digging.
All that to say. I’m stuck in a massive rut.