Étude means Study

I went for a walk this morning. In the upper middle class suburbia I grew up in. I've spent nearly a year living with my mom again and never before have I felt so stagnant. I can't remember last week from last month. I struggle with the most elementary of tasks expected of a functional person. Of course all the drugs don't help but I feel they're not the core contributor to my inaction. I know why I'm here. I just don't want to admit it to myself. All this fear and anxiety and self reflection and realization bring me this frozen uneasy peace. Each day I feel I've learned and grown to the point of being indistinguishable from myself the days prior but yet my life is still while everyone else's moves forward. I think it was in September when I broke down crying in front of my mom. But I can't remember. The temporal relation between now and then is nothing but mush to me. It could've just been last month... I didn't intend for this to be so eye rolling but this morning is a time I think I can remember. Late March. Start of spring break for many. All my friends (a stretch to call them such considering how little I contribute socially) in various stages of their own memorable experiences while I spend the entirety of my time asleep and/or high. But this morning I did something. Behind the forest of indifferentiable houses is a little nature preserve. Less than a block away from the bed I'm laying in. Of course high fences divide off the white retired cop and his retired middle school teacher wife and the seemingly untouched eden. I had never been on the other side and this morning I was intent on getting there. A couple of hopped fences later and I was there. I'll spare the jarbled imagery but it was a time I felt I could remember. Something so beautiful and so close that's been there my entire memorable life. For the first time I was there. A place that hasn't been completely ruined by the American dream. Just the birds, the damp mud, dead cattails, and coyote warning signs (I lied earlier, sorry for the lame elementary imagery). But it was then that I felt my life finally inched forward. No more but no less than an inch. A marathon in my eyes. I told myself I wanted to come back the next day. I wanted that not to be the first and only time going there. It was cautious optimism however and I've remained stationary since. It is now 6am the next day. Almost 24 hours since I hopped the fences and the land has been blanketed in snow since. But here I lay. Back to my normality