I don't know how long I can do this for

[the_farside_cow]

There's always something about the middle of winter that just brings everything to a screeching halt. Lately I haven't felt particularly overwhelmed, so much as utterly confused, terrified, scared of what needs to happen and when. The overwhelming part is just a symptom of the rest of the problems in my head. I know that I need to get out of my head to be ok, but how can I leave when it's where I've been my entire life? I don't know how to make anything out there in the world yet, I almost don't want to because I can't take people that don't understand what this is like. If you can't understand, then anything and everything I could say about anything means nothing. Nothing that helps me, anyway. The few people that do understand, I cherish and hold dearest to my heart, but so few and far between are the meetings with them that it's all I can do to just hang in there. No amount of superficial stimulus or excitement or grandeur means anything without them, meaning isn't made alone and it never was. We're just parts that make up the foundations of the whole, and the whole teeters above our heads swaying in the breeze of our whims and arbitrary decisions. It could come to a crash, it could straighten to the tallest heights, showing all the way from its highest perches. But neither of these things happen, they aren't meant to happen a lot of the time if at all. If there's ever a crash, if there's ever an ascension, we always miss it. Stories and legends, myths and religions, science and culture, all try so hard to slow these beautiful moments of change down to hold them, care for them, aspire to them, be them, but they can never touch them because they are bigger than we are.

We're so blind to this beauty, we just brush it off. How am I supposed to brush this off?