Upside of the Downside I won’t be here forever, at the bottom of a well, Where it’s cold, dark, and hard to move around. I’ve been here before. And I might as well be grateful. There are protective aspects to well-dwelling: I’m not going to die of thirst. I will not be blinded by light. I will not get a sun burn. I won’t jump off a cliff in a delirious happy dance and thus break all my bones. I won’t smash my fingers with a hammer while trying to build a house. There are skills to develop down here: Drawing on the brick wall around me with mud. Drumming on the nearby bucket attached to a rope. Training a mouse to do tricks. (“Roll over. Good mouse!”) Perfecting my singing. (Where better than surrounded by tall, echoic walls?) I would like to be clear: Wells are not my favorite places to be. I miss sunlight. I value movement. I like a separate place to put my waste, other than where I exist all day. I want the warmth of the sun’s rays, and a human’s touch. But this is a well. Cold. Isolating. I don’t know how to get out right now. But I know I will leave sometime. I always do.