Fallen

I don't know why. But I suddenly feel like an angel who's just got thier wings cut and is suddenly crashing down to Earth. Unable to fly, unable to dream.

Haunted by memories and images of another plain. One that doesn't exist in human reality.

Tethered to a reality that is fast becoming harsh and unforgiving. Unable to find solace in the usual places.

Something feels missing. And the memory of it keeps gnawing.

Is this what humans call depression?

I sometimes wish I was make-believe. A character is someone else's fiction. I want to see the world, the universe, all the alternate dimensions.

Perhaps that is why it pains me sometimes to watch Doctor Who. The possibilities it presents and the harsh reality that none of it could exist on this plain.

Alas, but to dream.

To fly.