like any movement has the potential to get you stuck-er.
like stuck to the point where you can't use your hands or legs.
any movements are now getting the stuck up around your neck and like very soon you are going to be eating the stuck and it will drown you.
i hate the stuck. hate. HATE. HATE the stuck. and I don't like to use words like hate.
but what i hate more than the stuck is the feelings surrounding stuck. of hopeless and defeat and immobility and ARGHHH. like you want to move and make things alright, but you also just want to stay and process, but fuck it sucks and it's hard and it's ugly and ARGHHHH!
so yeah life's good here... what's it like in your neck of the woods?
most of me knows this is a cycle and it will be soon be over. but there's the part that knows, like in the image above, that once the cycle is over i will become compost for some other adventurer.
meta-physical death/change is often twice as excruciating as literal death. mostly because it keeps happening over and over as we grow. literal death only happens once. usually.
what i can do? ... go pull some more weeds. maybe it will ground me. maybe it will just piss me off, but no matter what it will create a little bit of beauty that i can glom on to and stare at in this time of stuck-ness.