Navigating a sea of heartbreak

I've fallen down again. The echo makes no noise. I'm greeted with silence and sounds caused by shreds of my imagination sustaining themselves through blind optimism and intense naïveté. I'm seeing and hearing things that probably aren't there.

I've fallen down before but never like this. Everything seems much more intense now. More vivid, more... "more." So much that apparently, I can't even think of a word to use. Everything is sharper, more intense, more fragrant, more tasty, more alive. Alive.

I came back to life. But as I navigate through this sea of heartbreak am I dead? Have I been knocked unconscious? Am I broken? Did I break long ago and never get around to fixing myself? Or is the me I am now the me I'm supposed to be? Have I found myself yet?

I don't like falling down because shit like this happens.

Doubt.

So much of it.

Doubt in proportional measures is fine because doubt is the fire that tempers a man's armor but this can get fucking ridiculous and makes doubt lava which in turn obliterates any armor and the man himself.

The sea is not infinite. There might not even be a sea but a puddle or a lake at best.

There will be land eventually.