Day 18: It All Comes Out as Fear and Sadness

Saturday June 14, 2008

It was the title of a drawing, little more than a sketch, done some 30 years ago. The exact time and circumstances elude me now, but it still echoes the feelings passing through my body like slow gravity waves of open ocean.

The early morning brought tears, more so last night. This should just all go away. Just leave me alone. Please, Dear God, I don't want to play these games any more.

I want to try to paint, but the media and brushes are not easily at hand, no canvasses here or panels prepared. Will I even have the spark? Before, meaning when mania ruled the world, I had to wait for the "muse" to take over; the muse may be dead, or, more likely, in a coma, drowned in lithium and serotonin reuptake inhibitors.

You'll notice less griping about side effects; we've come to a state of uneasy coexistance. They are still here, but none, so far, are deal-killers.