What has helped me to get better is having the purpose of becoming better for you. I've wanted to become normal and more stable so that you'd feel that it's safe to come back. It's been like a path through these times. I walked and progressed along the trail, telling myself that everything must get better as I got better. It didn't matter just how much I could fix myself without you, as long as I kept going. Step after step, month after month, I have gotten much further than I imagined I would. Since meaning started seeping back into the world, the journey hasn't been lonely; many people have cheered me on and even walked with me along the way.
But I came across the end of that path. I feel that this is the best that I can get. That's alright. The path led me to the edge of a cliff, and I looked around to see where I needed to go next. This is when I saw that nothing had gotten better. Yes, I got better, but nothing aside from me had improved. There wasn't anywhere else to go, yet what I strived for wasn't there; you were still distant. There was this edge, and I looked over it, down the cliffside.
I knelt at the edge, and I said, "I won't die." I felt for footholds along the cliff's face. I found what I needed and swung my leg over, begginning to climb down. I am crawling down this cliff, but neither is there clear way down nor any way to tell how much I need to scale. I am desperately trying to find somewhere to plant my foot, knowing that I must proceed but having no idea how. I don't know what I'm doing, only why I'm doing it. It's so scary. I don't want to slip. I'm so scared.
Just as before, it isn't lonely. I'm being cheered and supported by wonderful people. But few feel that they can do anything to really help my situation; that is, to help us. I want people to help, dammit, not just cheer. There isn't a thing I can do toward that end, though. I don't know what to do, and I am so scared.
