Friday, 20 May 2011

That's it in a sense

The conclusion from the pain.

Get on with it. Keep fighting. Grow up.

No answer to my misery but...in the lack of answers it is hope that enough booze and solitude provide something other than total annihaltion.

I am imploding. My psyche is falling apart. I've had to work today. Or volunteer. I don't get fucking paid.

I am so tired and empty but...all I have is that. That's it.

That's more than most.

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About Me

We It comes in part from an appreciation that no one can truly sign their own work. Everything is many influences coming together to the one moment where a work exists. The other is a begrudging acceptance that my work was never my own. There is another consciousness or non-corporeal entity that helps and harms me in everything I do. I am not I because of this force or entity. I am "we"