the endless search

I think that it's close to once every couple of nights that I'll hit the button, open the tab in my browser, and sit here with a blank post before me. Not simply out of boredom, or of wondering whether I could find something to blog about. I just can't get it out of my head and onto the page, so to speak.

I fear I'm losing my words. Losing to ability to write what I feel, to capture that emotion. So much goes through my head that I just seem to lose. I can't grab a hold on it, I can't pin it down and tell you just what it is that's running through my head - and as such, I can't seem to process it as well as I used to. The thoughts, the feelings go rushing past, and I can latch onto them momentarily. There's that short period of time where I can feel them, listen to them, understand them. But straight away they're gone.

Why am I losing this? Why does it feel like I'm losing so many different parts of me. They're slowly slipping away, like figures into the mist. They're still there, if I search hard enough. But after being separated, they're never the same, and they continue to drift further and further away. And one day I'm going to look up, look around me, and find that I can no longer find them.

What is going to happen on that day? What is going to become of me when I find that these little parts of me that have kept me together, kept me going, have played their part in building who I am, have slipped away? What will I do when I cannot find what should be so naturally ingrained? What will have I become?

It's something in itself that I can't bring myself to think about too readily or concentratedly. That image is too strong, of myself standing there alone in the mist, searching frantically for all the parts that have disappeared from view, but knowing with a detached clarity in my mind that I will not find them. That moment when reality overcomes my panic, will even the harsh cold numb me then? Or will it simply be too much?