Quicksand

 

 

A Collection of Texts

i feel like i am eternally behind where i should be,

my feet are caught in quicksand.

my companions forge on ahead of me, unaware of my predicament.

i call out to them, but no one hears.

bursts of motivation come, and i try to escape.

clutching onto a branch, anything that can keep me afloat.

the struggling makes it worse.

the motivation comes harder now.

part of me wants to just lay down, be enveloped.

be drowned as the slush enters my nose, my mouth, my lungs.

but i want to get out, i want to walk on, i want to see the light of day again.

so this oxymoronic existence continues,

the struggling coupled with submission,

the persistence coupled with apathy.

i wonder if i will ever escape this eternal quicksand,

it feels like ive been here forever,

and im not sure ill be able to get out.

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