Too bad it seems life never gets to look like those slightly sepia-toned, perfectly sunny and blissful movie-reel like visions that pass through my mind as clear as any memory I've had. Except they're manufactured. Or maybe from another, worry-free past life where a childhood was still really a childhood.

Those moments are what's missing. I get a little taste of them on certain sunny, sublime days when I'm just riding or driving, the breeze in my hair and a poet on my tongue, but otherwise they're disdainfully ellusive.

Maybe another time.

Last night I had a simultaneous breakdown and breakthrough. A mixture of a regression into something I used to be, and a rebirth into what I will become. I cried and hurt and had crazy thoughts...and then I drew something for the first time in forever. Maybe it was the thunderous crumbling of that wall that was blocking my creativity this whole time.

I painted my nails, I drew henna tattoos on myself, I decided I needed to cut off my hair again...I fell in love with part of a song I heard for the first time, and then I slept and drempt of a strange futuristic world where I had many tasks and problems to solve and run from.

I'm alright now, and I'm still not sure what brought on the sudden affliction, but at least it was short lived and I managed to contain myself.