I’m not sure how I ended up here.

This unlit, desolate cavern of confinement. Gripping a bucket o’ lies in one hand and clenching the trowel of power the other. Working at a frantic pace to control the cracks and crevices of life that keep sucking away my perceived fulfillment.

Panic sets in.

Scoop.

Plop.

I’m not fast enough.

Swipe.

Press.

I’m not strong enough

Smear.

Push.

I’m not good enough.

This.

Needs.

To.

Stop.

Leaning against the cold wall, the tools of disillusionment dropping from my death grip. Tired legs let go and I slide down the wall, hair tangled in the slop of my own reasoning. I’m drained.

Head bows.

Throat thirsts.

Tears flow.

Parched lips whisper a prayer to cease returning to this empty cistern of my own making.