I had a long dark one last night, a heavy rush of reminders
Overwhelming sense of stationary among a network of people who move so far and foundationally
A feeling that lingers like a cold behind my primary camera to the world at the moment
I know I'll start moving again
The mechanic's on his way, the suit looks sharp and the tie dye I'm making looks comfortable
A gradually developing mess of colours and concepts, it feels good

But err..
It's amazing how flexible you are, how much momentum you can get when you feel like kicking yourself in the face
Those self indulgent destructive couple of hours, amplified by a liquid haze evaporating inhibition
After something so simple and reassuring, it's easy to crash under the weight of repression
And after all the perfectly sad songs and poisonous self indulgence, you wake to a light of relief and shame because you let yourself be weak to it to all the building *******

Uncertainties for me stem from those classic counter productives, a flashing red light of low for confidence, clarity, certainty
And that crippling feeling that all those open eyes and open hearts that have given me a chance before just won't come again, new faces, social opportunities, chances at a real deep connection just moving past as I just sit still
Watching the escapist worlds flourish, reading the corrupt cracking at our pride as a country, and seeing photos of all those new places and people surrounding their momentous lives

But.. writing such disparity... well.
As relaxing as the release is, I'm reminded that that guy in the mirror still wants the life
The validation of a finely crafted creation that exemplifies my personality and passion for creative media
The dull but reassuring letters, bricks and decorative crap that make up an owned home
The relaxing calm of attaining just that right ******* wavelength with someone, where conversation flows with the same notes and tones and can go on for as long or as short as it likes without breaking the bond between the eyes
Be it from a woman, who can dance and talk and looks good in shorts
Or.. well, from the exception to the rule in those other interests
I, like most of us dumb self involved ******* and wankers, wouldn't mind being close to someone again
Forgive my hollow faith in it, like my ambitions and the foundations of my future, I fear it'll just smash leaving glass in my toes and the same old ******* walls around me.

But that doesn't mean I can't ignore all that. Or at least help myself let it all go.
Doesn't mean I can't smile for that girl who takes my picture, giving me that look of understanding from across the hall.
Doesn't mean I can't sit in a field surrounded by friends, holding two drinks and laughing at my mistakes.
Doesn't mean I can't rattle out a few words to get this **** off my mind.

And wake up the next day, drink a cold sobering glass of optimism,
and get the **** on with it.