It waxes and wanes. Like the tide, it rises, then retreats. Back into the blackness.
Looking over my shoulder. It follows me. Weighing me down. Dragging my feet, breathing heavy, sometimes gasping for air.
Picking up speed, I try to outrun. But it inevitably catches me. Too often I surrender. Feeling weak and confused and beaten.
Watching the film of my life. My life I no longer live. My how easy it is to forget. Or is it only what I created to justify.
The lingering, the dwelling. But this, this is when I grow. Or so I thought.
Or so I thought.