It is during these times when my work load is heavy and isn’t necessarily fun or creative in the way I would prefer–that I seem to lose myself. My mind seeks solace, the instant gratification of unconditional attention.

I feel like I can’t breathe. Held tight by obligations…places to be, things to do–when all I really want…I just don’t know what that is. What do I want? I know it is not that. Not him. Not again. That’s over for good. But I tend to ruminate…to embellish the memories, polishing them in my mind. I write through the moment and come out the other side with a bittersweet, melancholy buzz.

I am in the process of studying myself…what makes me tick. I am beginning to believe there is a dark side to my creativity. A kind of madness. But, that’s all in my mind. I am not regressing, just thinking regressive thoughts…?

Sure enough, when I forbid myself to think about certain things it is all I dwell upon. It’s like the drinking. I am 30 days clean today, but I still want a drink.

I need a day off. I think that would set me right. Free. I crave free-ness. Me-ness.

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