We can do anything, but we cannot do everything at the same time. How many balls are too many when juggling? I don’t know, I don’t juggle. I wish I did. I am too clumsy. I am talking about literally juggling and figuratively juggling, of course. Figuratively juggling life. To continuously toss aspects of life trying to find the bright side. Every now and then, the spin ceases to be, I feel tired, my arms exhausted, branches heavy, and the juggling stops abruptly. Small things act as indicators. I find a small plate in my room. Then the plate grows a mug on top. More likely than not, the mug will be pregnant with a dry Earl Grey tea bag. My phone refuses to behave as a helpful tool anymore, instead, acts as an energy portal that demands attention constantly. The attention is denied, and the unread chats pile up in a disastrous cornucopia of unattended love.

Then comes the sickness. Usually, only a gut feeling, but can also manifest in the form of head dizziness or overall gloom. The bed starts to become second nature. The computer, a way to escape. The laundry mountain grows, unconquerable.

And my feet sink deeper, further, toes tangled within the sheets, below the ground, underneath the tunnels built by men, across the core of the earth, floating, helpless on the other side.
It is quite unpleasant. And yet I get comfortable. Until I get exasperated, all fed up.
I somehow find the energy to move my arm. And my hand, a hook of muscle and bone, traverses the ugly T-shirt I’m wearing. Somehow, I lift myself up. From the abyss, across the core, mantle and crust, above the tracks and basements, back into my bed.
Where my fingers mingle with the fabric of the pillows.

It is not how many times we fall that define us; for falling seems inevitable.
Perfecting the art of coming back, there is where it lays. The secret of life, the secret of not giving up.

I often forget that without falling, there is no coming back.
Crawl, crouching.
Walk, doubtfully.
Jog, decidedly.
Run, confidently.

And once again, come back, baby, come back to where you belong.