I’m laying here, tugging at my brain, trying to pull it out of the sludge that doesn’t seem to stop coating it in ever more thick layers these days.  Something breaks free.  It’s just another piece of flaking paint covering the walls of my so-called life.

Back in the day, I was filled with promise, or so they would say.  I guess they say that about everyone.  Of course, I believed them.  I was one of the smartest people I knew, and I was barely even giving it a good-faith effort.  I’ve lost all my faith now.

Sometimes I feel a slight glimmer of hope, underneath all this crushing tide of sameness forever washing over me.  Sometimes, I think of what might be, if I can break free of the mire.  I’ve wanted to fly for years.  The runway’s always over the next hill.  I can see it, before the next wave rushes over my head again.

Some day, some day, and it’s always some day, I’ll do it.  I’ll take off, and fly away and never come back to this dreadful place…this dreadful place here inside myself.  My soul is atrophied, but maybe all it needs is a little fresh air, up in the sky.  It’s always some day.  But not tomorrow; tomorrow will be the same day.