Recently I have found myself in a sort of multifaceted limbo. So many components of my life are neither here nor there; not one way or another; they are limboing. Yes. As a matter of fact, I can make that noun into a verb if I feel so inclined, I'm that good.
And limbo, while far less distressing than the rabbit hole, is just an odd state. It is a hanging state- like those little marshmallows in that horrifying jello-salad… thing. You know the one I'm talking about. That marshmallow is stuck, doomed. It has been completely stripped of itself and it's self-control. It can't sink; it can't swim; it can't move. It can only wait, forever suspended in pinkish-orange goo, to be devoured. That's limbo.
And, not that this will come as an extraordinary surprise, I'm no good at limbo. I just don't do it well; I am not a marshmallow. I suppose it's the same principle as being sick- I don't care if get better or worse, I just cannot sit there. Meanwhile, I don't care if I move forward or backward, just let me move- sink, swim, or be devoured… just. let. me. move. Let me shift in some meaningful direction- or at least let me pick a direction and start wading toward it.
Mixed metaphors anyone?
I'm pretty sure I'll get to a point somewhere in all this nonsense.
Oh yes, here it is…
It's not an easy thing, having to watch your world happen around you. And before everyone goes all up in arms and tells me it's my own fault, and I can absolutely be active in my own world, happening in my own world… that that's the point of it being my world, just do something about it (yes, I can also anticipate counter arguments)- go back to the notion of limbo.
Limbo is absolutely what I'm describing: some jello-like force that literally contains you within your own space. Because of this force, this thing that is outside of your control, you become immobile and unable to participate in your surroundings.
And that's where I'm at.
Until next time, dearests.
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