I’m sitting here waiting for paint to dry… it is the biggest piece I have painted.
I tell myself that I am not depressed… that I am not really all that sad.
I tell myself that the darkest days, the hardest days are behind me.
And I realize that sometimes I spend time worrying about depression.
That I have anxiety about anxiety.
That I am often more worried about slipping into that darkness
Worried about being alone
Worried about not having that rigid and busy schedule for work
Worried about not having people around
Worried about me… and my thoughts and my head
Worried about what I tell myself …inside
And then the reality is that
There is a yard full of ivy in LA that needs to be pulled.
I have no money.
There is a bathroom here and a fence around my yard that need lots and lots of work.
There is lots of work
An art show
At least three books to read
And I tell myself that I have no fucking time to be depressed.
It’s too hot anyway.