Things fall apart

That's the name of a book. A book I read many years ago. I don't honestly remember much about it. Something about an African tribe and missionaries. Maybe about old ways of life and new ways and how one way is not automatically better than the other.

Maybe. Like I said, I don't really remember.

Sure seems right though, doesn't it?

Things fall apart.

You don't always mean for them to. Actually, I think you never mean for them to.

Whenever I've heard this phrase in the past, I've always thought of a whole falling into pieces. A whole what didn't matter. Just a whole that fell apart.

But what if there was never a whole? What if instead you had gathered together pieces from here and there throughout your life. And what you do, day after day, is hold those pieces together.

Then one day, you just lose your grip.

Doesn't matter why. You just do. And when you lose your grip, all the different pieces start to fall in all different directions. You were holding together so many pieces and you spent so many years gathering them all together, you just really can't imagine gathering them all back up again.

So what do you do now?

Keep on keeping on and start gathering new pieces?

Try to gather up the old pieces?

Ignore all pieces, old and new, and just take a nap?

It's getting late on a Sunday and I have class in the morning, so I'm going for the sleep.