Recovery

I don't remember hitting the ground; the last thing I remember is the ground rushing up at me, and then nothing.

I can feel the aftereffect of the impact, though. As I pick up my head from the dirt, it all comes rushing over me in a cavalcade of pain. It's like someone crumpled my whole body up like a beer can and then kicked it to the curb. 

The smell of topsoil fills my nostrils. My vision is blurry and microscopic granules of grit seem to have covered my teeth in a fine patina of grime.

I need to get up. Now.

I place my skinned palms flat on the ground, trying to ignore their abrasive burn and lift myself up, but I am so, so tired.

I need to keep going. Get up!

The back of my neck prickles as I sense It loom over me, watching, waiting, savoring the moment. 

My arms strain, and every fiber of my body screams as I make a half-hearted attempt to pull myself off the ground. If I don't get up now, it's all over. 

I know that. I recognize the terrible danger I am in now.

The horrible laugh fills my ears. Get up!

But now that I'm down here, it makes so much sense to just rest...if only for a minute...

It would be so much easier if I could just lay my head back down, close my eyes and slip into a deep sleep...

Rebbe Noson said that more than the actual sin itself, the Evil Inclination waits for the depression that follows it.

It hurts and it's crazy hard, but you must get back up again.

Your life depends on it.

Literally.