9/8/06

It exists in the depth and in the shade of crystalline blue. Not a single shade or tone, but a multitude. Like stained glass flickering in the sway of light. Blackness lingers not at the bottom, but at the top in tones of purples and hazy greys. Only the upper depth truelly reaching a tone of blackness. And this is where I exist. Not in my true tone, not in blue, but in the blackness that lingers over me like a velvet cloak. Yet, even in this shroud, I find warmth. Even in the darkest darkness, I still find comfort. How is such a thing possible. I don’t even have an answer for that.

I gave up trying to find answers to all of my questions. Everything and nothing. My failing ideals to my failing life as a once aspiring artist. I threw away my paint brushes along with the glass that held them. I had been using that very glass for  innumberable years, assisting me in so many paintings that have become favorites of mine. It was a very old cup stained with paint residue, something that I had cherished for a long time. I cannot recollect nor verify if I had any real reasons for wanting to discard it. I simply acted without true conscious thought. Somedays, I miss that cup. It was very much a part of me.

I threw away myself.

But I’m still here.

Would you recognize me if you saw me? Because I don’t feel like the same person I was just a little while ago.

I miss that life.