I dispised my twenties,
The decade of depression.
I can count happy memories on a hand and a half,
And all of them were an escape from the life I lived.
Escaping myself was heaven,
Pouring myself onto paper was an affordable five-minute replacement.
I wrote a lot.
And as ugly as the era was,
Pain paints a beautiful picture.
Perhaps that is why PAINT is an art.
The art of survival.
I am a writer with an extremely active imagination. I love learning answers to questions and what makes everything and everyone tick. I am a "Unique case, medically" if nothing else. I am flawed in my extreme aversion to failure (even when "success" isn't good for me,) but have come a long way in ditching the perfectionist mindset. I like people whose default setting toward others is compassion, an open mind, and honesty View more posts
SickyBeat