It is the day after Christmas 2015 and I so want to be able to write regularly again. It seems that with the trauma of the last 3 years went my ability to concentrate my thoughts enough to write coherent sentences, to coordinate and process my thoughts. It bothers me because there was a time that it was an important part of my life...sharing my self, my thoughts and feelings with others. I know it was healthy and frankly it just felt good to vent that stuff in a positive and creative way.
So much of my life these days seems to be merely surviving...just hanging on from day to day with little to nothing to look forward to except the continuous adversity and accompanying suffering. Pain has become much to familiar a companion and I swear through the corner of my minds eye....my second sight senses HIM stalking me....threatening me in the menacing manner that only DEATH has perfected. It is a continual Mind Fuck and I cannot out-run it any more.
Strange that in real life I no longer have the ability to run...it is representative of all the limitations I bear these days. I cannot fly...no longer do I feel the strength to fight so naturally I just....WAIT...WAIT...WAIT. And I am no more patient a man today then I ever was....
Painting: Caspar David Friedrich - Cairn In Snow (1807)
