Meanwhile, I continue to drift.
People and events call out to me as I pass by overhead, and I may look down upon them with interest or even compassion, but I lift my feet away from their grasp. I'm not ready to care. Not just yet.
I should have let the poor sucker live. How could I have known though? How could I have known that survival was even an option? It sure didn't feel like it at the time.
Is this survival?
So I drift along with the wind. I've been looking for a place to land, but when I do come down I want it to be on my own terms. I don't want to be pulled back down into a world that I'm no longer ready to face.
Of course, I don't really expect to have a choice in the matter.