You know when you spend days upon days in the greatest mood imaginable, nothing can seem to bother you, and you seem to be floating on an unnatural cloud of euphoria? Well, that has been what the past few days have been like for me. When this happens though, my inner pessimist comes out to play in the assumption that for every great rise, there must come a great crash.
It’s difficult to look past this state of mind at all of the potential for disaster. When everything is bright and shining, I am blind to the shadows that lurk behind in wait. At the least suspected moment, my world comes falling down on top of me at the moment I shield my eyes and look over my shoulder at what could possibly be following me. In a split second, without warning, the great letdown.
I’m not prone to wild mood-swings or bouts of crippling depression but things have been strange for me. There’s almost a sense of otherworldliness to the series of events that has been occurring in recent months. What is killing me is that my sixth sense for disaster seems to have taken a siesta and with it’s hiatus is a sense of vulnerability that I am far from accustomed to.
I have not lost all of it though, mind you. I do get the feeling often that something big is laying on the horizon. I have no sense of what the nature of this ‘big thing’ is, but the fact that I can indeed sense it ahead of me and not stalking me in the dark could either be a sign of potential luck or that I’ve managed to leave myself open to be hurt. This lack of suspicion is what is killing me. The anxiety and nervousness of some malicious happening is not around to keep me firmly grounded in the realities of the evils that lie quietly within us all. Such things are not dormant. They are merely crouched to pounce like stealth predators in the fields. I seem aware at this moment, but don’t be fooled. I am not prepared to welcome that level of paranoia into my state of mind. More accurately, I am simply not prepared.