Sometimes you just need to say a few words, and yet there is no title in your head. There is no flow or sequence. It is just a bunch of jumbled thoughts and emotions running out like thick, gooey, elastic, melting, lava.
I feel a sense of calm, intertwined with a level of such guttural anxiety. Like a shadow it follows me about- screaming obscenities and telling awful jokes. I can hear it taunting me every minute of every day. Only when I fall into a deep sleep does it wane.
I listen to a lot of music to try to drown it out. It is my solace. Like Obi Wan it is my only hope. For just when things feel like they are settling down- I am back in the giant trash compactor with Luke and Han. Some tentacled monster pulling me under the garbage.
Yes, it is a lot these days. But, I keep moving forward- dreaming of the stars, of parsecs and warp speed. Until a moment when everything feels like a beautiful sunset on Tatooine. I can feel the warm pinks and oranges. I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
Then the noise begins again.
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