There are times when my "gifts" alarm me...I'm not quite sure why, but to be a writer, to be an artist, to see things as I do, and to think the things I do is just...alarming...or maybe stunning. I'm not coming up with the right word. Sometimes it's hard to grasp, sometimes it's hard to breathe, I keep going at it in some form every day, always making something, reading something, writing something down, shepherding some thought into being even if it's is just a color combination on a bit of paper with a few lines. What is inside my head is so "large" I don't think I could ever get it out...it's very overwhelming. It should be simple enough...
...you'd think.
I'm exhausted. I'm joyful. I'm full of sadness. I'm content. All at once...I look at my hands, so dry, paint covered from a day's work...it is good.
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