We always seem to need to search outside instead of digging within and maybe find those missing pages.
I don't mind if they are blank or totally stained.
I can face it.
I really feel dry and arctic,and never mind the cherryblossom I have this awful and weird certainty I'll ever come back to this "It would not come, it would never be the way I had wanted it"
I am always amazed when it happens to be exactly the way I wanted it. I feel like trapped,punk'd or whatever I wonder where the cameras are?
I have spent a nice weekend, well if I am honest I will say I have tried...(really you did try?)
okay I probably haven t tried because I was entertwined in a chocking maelstrom of disenchantments and there was also a warm fury...I tried my best to control it, adorn it so that she will shut her mouth...
I am feeling so ineffective kind of paralysed...see how much I need to alleviate every words: " kind of" as if there is no reality but a true ethereality...everything fading close to another emotions always, nothing precise,exact and of course none certainty.
I think I find myself ugly.not as if it has been a while...but it's as if my Generosity was in real dangerous,diseased by a dose of hopelessness.
Yet I still have that yearning to give but it's hibernating maybe.
I still give and share so I look open.I am just gliding slowly with my landslides.
I think I want to hide this.
I feel vulnerable to write down my thoughts, but I am not sure lots of people truly decipher me so it doesn't matter, it shouldn t matter.
Everyone make their own conclusion.
last weekend I have had lots of nightmares & insomnia.
I need glimpses in Garden of hopes.
I feel lifeless I think.
I cannot define my state of mind.
I know that even when I feel guilty to share my frozen and quiet sadness I cannot change it right.
I will just go with this flow of emptiness & try to rise back with my art, that's the only thing I can trust right now. the real daily company. the real confident.