It may have been that I slept poorly last night, or spent the day disengaged (lectured at), or had to wait wait and wait (for a friend, running late). Whatever it was I felt exhausted, on the brink of drowning in a pool of sorrow, like the safety net I've woven for myself (plenty of rest, engagement, and action) was for naught.
I can't seem to remember what it feels like to be taken care of, to not have to subsist meagerly on those self-imposed subsidies. In the big picture, everything is going well and moving forward, although there hasn't been much time and space for emotional processing, and then there are days that I fall, like today.
It doesn't help that I get involved with the self-involved, wrapped up so tightly in their ever-devolving selves that they seem to not see, me, and so I tend to my self. I tend to... myself. Self-sufficiency is fine when you find yourself sufficient, and then there are days that I fall, like today.
On the brink and too close for comfort. Or not close enough, for comfort. Like too far-starved, too far apart, falling apart. Days like today when I fall, falling apart, apart at the seams, seemingly too close but not close at all.
Time to catch myself (up) again, on sleep.