limbo

I once met a psych patient who had claimed to be Jesus, which is a common enough delusion in those suffering from psychosis. He wasn't the first I'd encountered; I'm certain he won't be the last. I suppose, if you are going to have a significant break from reality, you may as well go big.

"We're all stuck in limbo," he told me. "We're on the edge of hell."

"Don't I know it," I whispered wryly.

These days, that's what I think back to when I think about dating. Limbo. What used to be a world of sunny possibilities has become a dusky place where the sun has fallen behind the horizon. I find myself largely in the dark, and confused by ambiguous shadows I can't quite make out on the periphery.

I have always done my best to live without regrets, but there are times when I doubt my own choices. Was it somehow better to feel secure in what I knew, deep down, to be the wrong story? Or am I better off finding myself alone in a strange, ever-shifting new world-- like Alice, perpetually falling down the rabbit hole?

I guess it's par for the course during this awkward period of un-nesting, when you leave the relative safety and security of the home you have built for the unknown. For limbo.

That's the price you pay for the chance to fly.