I haven't written anything personal for some time. It is not for want of deep diving into the well of living, rather it is from a constant water-treading in emotional exhaustion. Sometimes the weight of human expectation and belief (my own at the forefront) weighs me down with lead-like determination and I find myself afraid of the next breath...the next "not knowing", afraid that tomorrow will inevitably find itself echoing the sharp notes of today. These are the dark nights. I surface for a long deep breath, drawn unhurriedly in a clear near-autumn eve, and ask, "What if we can't f*#k it up?". What if life just is and there isn't a right way or a wrong way except our thinking makes it so. What if it...all of it...isn't such a big deal. Would the stars still turn round the heavens if I tumbled ass over teakettle into my own stupidity. Would autumn still give way to winter. Of course it would. What if I stood up, tall, and stretched from my long crouching, took a deep breath and bellowed deep from the bottom of my belly. What if I roared. Would the sky shudder.