The Abyss, Again

You never really notice the climb when you're on the way down. Sure, some days you may look up and see that the sun doesn't look as bright that day, but you attribute it to the weather, and not your perspective on it. You may realize you've gone days without connecting to another person, but you chalk it up to their busy lives, and not the fact that few climb willingly into the dark, cold abyss. 

At first it feels good. The mists are cool and welcoming, there is no sun to hurt your eyes, no noise to pierce your ears. There are no people around, so there aren't any expectations. You can sleep all day and do nothing. The chores can pile up around you and no one will care. 

But one day, you notice that every gesture seems slow, heavy, deliberate. You look down and see that your protective layer is made of ice, and suddenly, you feel the cold. 

You panic. You start to notice your surroundings. The steep cliffs of granite, cold and unyielding, looming above you in every direction. The pale cold light barely peeking beyond. The ice makes everything slippery and every movement difficult. With no one around, there is no one to hear your cries. 

Despair becomes real. Hopelessness sets in. And you begin to question the fight.