dissappearing

Okaaaayyy… GO!

(……)

Hmmm. That didn’t work- let’s try it again. Ready words? GO!

(………..)

(I look around for some sort of inspiration, something to at least get me started… candles, my workspace for the jewelry, the photo of my grandmother from the ’30’s – not much for inspiration. I do my best not to look at the battery meter on my laptop…)

The candles burn, the end of another day at hand. Listening to The Cure of all things, which I haven;t listened to in ages. It’s good to hear again, bringing me back to I don;t know when, The Top. I adjust the laptop on my lap, sit up a bit – doing whatever I can to keep writing, keep it going, always looking for the ease with which I wrote when I was on the road – but things are different now, there’s much less to get me started.

“Today I woke up, worked until the battery died, went to the cafe, worked until it closed, and came back to my motorhome.”

yeah. awesome.

I ate somewhere in there, too.

Let’s start over.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’ve been noticing a difference in me lately, something not so subtle at all, something that I’m not sure if I like – but at the same time it almost feels good, makes me feel more alive though it’s not something I’m accustomed to at all – there’s an anger inside of me that is much more prevalent, much more in the front of everything. It’s not always there, not always the primary emotion, but… when it;s there, it’s there. I want to scream at the world, tell it to just fuck off – and in a way it does feel good.

The incessant work on the magazine has made me numb, not much different from the way the average person must feel as they go through the daily routine, to the office and back, and forth, and back and back, because when the specifics are torn away, that is what I’ve become. Day in, day out – …

Gods, I need to get back on the road. I’m not built for this, I’m not- I can’t… I can’t do it like this for much longer without completely losing my fucking mind. Something needs to change, and soon. Very soon. I need to figure something out, a way out – a way back to me, because the dreams are becoming nothing but rhetoric.  I’m fading, becoming insubstantial, immaterial… nonexistent.

nonexistent.

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