game on

It's going to be hard going back to life after a week away from it. Or I don't know, maybe I'll wake up tomorrow morning and slide right back into it. But for now, I'm afraid. What if all this beauty I concocted inside myself crumbles as soon as I reenter my daily life? What if I'm not as filled up as I've felt myself the past seven days? What if the winter doesn't live up to his songs? What if the big world and the open road contract again and become nothing but ads and beers and office gossip? I don't know that my wild self won't collapse. And I know it won't. But for now, I'm afraid that it will.