Tag Archives: facade

On Falling

On Falling

One day I fell.  Hard.  I couldn’t get back up because as I laid there in complete and total confusion and despair, I had no way of knowing which way was up.    The world hadn’t spun, it simply twisted behind its facade.  On the surface all was as it always had been: people went to work and the store, they played outside with their pets and children, they ate laughed, drank, cried, and loved.  But as I finally stood, slowly so as to hide my wobbling knees, looking around attenuating myself to this new existence, it became clear that the shock waves had damaged the foundation of things.  All around was the sound of familiar voices hitting notes I had never heard before, people moving in much more ways to ponder, and most of all eyes lingering on me more puzzled than ever.