...the long way around

Even as I close my eyes to each day passing by, another awareness curls around my mind, wrapping itself within thought itself, in such a way that my inner workings don't work anymore as they used to, instead I see further into my own reasoning for doing every little thing I do, and in doing so, I get trapped in this loophole that is my inward spiraling towards the center of me, over and over again. Every time I break the surface as if to breathe, I shunt away the little of me I get in each of those glimpses from down deep where I must remain for longer and longer periods until, finally, I need not return. I have the sense that isn't anything here calling out to be, but instead something in there keeping me out. My return to that birth place is as real as anything real can be, and equally unmovable. I must be something first before I gain complete access to my own keys. My way is the long way around.