Some days are worse than others.
Often I feel a need to create. To create anything, a sketch, a poem, a note. What it is does not matter. Simply the need. It is always there with me. Sometimes just a gentle scratch on the roof of my mouth, but I’m not always so fortunate, it is not always so subtle. Like a frozen stab of pain I can feel it in my mind. A compulsion.
I know it’s source, the “why?” but this knowledge does nought to help. I create so that I do not destroy. This is the same feeling I have carried for many years, only now my approached has differed. Only now do I struggle against it, and a struggle it is. The old way was easy, cloud out this feeling with the soothing mist of distilled alcohol and homegrown weed. Senses dulled and feelings abandoned. That alien thought, that alien emotion silenced more. I lived in a haven of self medication, of forgotten food and accumulated filth. It’s a well known story, we all know how it can end.
But I was given another chance, a chance to create and not destroy.
Some days are better than others.