Persistent headaches and constant sense of dissatisfaction, plague my mind. Rather it’s one thing or twenty, who the hell knows. Certainly not me. I often feel like a canvas that simply wishes to be left alone. Life battles us from three fronts spiritual, physical, and mental. I suppose in a way all three of these are lacking some satisfaction. Laced with my usual tendencies for fear, dread, and longing.
Maybe Dad was right and I should push all these things to the side and just work myself to death. But so much of me is just self-analytical, the result of too many visits to the Community Mental Health Center. But the gist of this is the fog that often plagues us, even after so long on the journey. Wishing to some degree I could turn off the noises I express through art. But these words are but a reflection of what I see and feel around me. A catalog of these difficult times. Where reality and madness exist side by side.