Call me mister know it all...

His life was at a teetering point, and he was about to fall off the edge of a cliff. He was spiraling down a black pit, and there was nothing that was going to stop him. Once you're falling through the air, it's impossible to turn yourself around. The gravity of my actions was pulling him down, down, down. He saw black until sanity began to creep from the confines of his mind, leaving little more than a skeleton-like remnant of who he once was. Not inanimate but inactive, still alive but very much aloof, he started to passively float through the steps of life, numb.

As seemed to be the theme of my days recently, I was questioning my reality, questioning my dreams, questioning my mind, questioning what was real, what was imagined, and then questioning why. I was feeling displaced, like an outsider, as though I were simply doing a pale impersonation of myself. And not even a good impersonation either, with steps too long, breaths too quick, smile too wide, blinks too slow. Get a hold of yourself, idiot. So I searched the room, searched my world, interrogating the shadows, prodding the corners, acknowledging the spaces, seeking for something to ground myself. Anything at all.