Next came the conversation. It dried up. I used to love winding endless discussions like a river with many tributaries, some mountain fed, some coming from deep within the forest. On really exciting days, the rain fell and made the river overflow. However, the river bed's water evaporated. I think about conversations now fondly like I do of childhood pastimes. I cannot seem to reach for anything more substantial than what I am eating. or seeing on the internet or of course the weather. I am boring myself.
These past several months have felt a bit like musical chairs. The music stopped and I was without a chair.
I knew there was something really different when my imagination became a closed circuit. Instead of being repopulated with new and interesting dimensions, the rooms of my mind emptied out and decluttered.
I sit right there on the surface. It is not a stable place to sit. I have no chair. The thin surface won't hold me long, but if I break through, how fall will I fall? Will I know how to swim or will I float right back up to the surface without words or ideas? Or words or ideas I don't know yet?