So just when things are starting to look up and only just when you’re starting to feel optimistic after a very long time – you’re dealt with a blow. A blow which leaves you dazed and gasping for air.
But you get up. You dust your hands and fervently hope that no one saw you fall, but you still get up. And you go on – or at least try to. For the sake of those around you, you attempt a smokescreen of normalcy and remind yourself that worse things have happened to better people.
But despite the flimsy facade, you’re intensely aware that you’re in over your head. You’re terrified, because you all you have left are the charred remains of meagre plans and what ‘could have’ and ‘should have’ been.
You are, to put it as bluntly as possible, lost.
So you stumble blindly. You grope in the dark like a blind man until your hands begin to bleed. Isolated in your predicament you’re insensible to everyone you’re hurting; self pity makes a poor companion after all.
Stagnation is not an option, it never was, so you fumble around and pick up the splinters. You piece together all the fragments and if it shatters again you start over. Painfully and laboriously – you start over.
Afterall, you have nothing and everything lose.