Tip Toe Ballet

Tip Toe Ballet
December 13, 2011 Jon Armstrong

I cannot escape the feeling that no matter what I do or say today, tomorrow or the immediate future, it will be the exact wrong thing. Not only that, but it will do more damage than I could ever possibly intend.

It’s this walk across the tops of eggshells that I’m I’ll suited for. Especially the part where I feel like the crane holding the 40 ton wrecking ball is about 40 feet straight above me, following my every move. That wrecking ball is hanging by a thread of cable that is liable to snap at any second. I’m likely to crush some (most? all?) of the eggshells in the effort to avoid being crushed.

I felt this way for most of 2004. But this time it’s worse. This time I don’t have a name for it aside from depression. This time is different in unknown and unseen ways, but since meds are already involved, it’s much scarier.

That’s about all I can say right now. I’m really trying to keep my shit together. I’m doing an ok job, but I can’t help feeling that I could be helping more, that if I just lay back far enough, maybe that’s the best way to help. Shut my yapper and wait, despite the anguish, despite the fear and despite the feeling of impending doom.

The future holds its breath along with me.

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