so… does it make sense now?

… the junkie/doctor fork…

the road less traveled?

I don’t know which road I took. less traveled… more traveled. I don’t really care. quantity… quality… quality… quantity…

I just… I’m through. I mean, if I choose no longer to be a junkie… and the voice I’ve found, through the writing that I’ve done… through the people that I’ve met… enticed… kept… lost… love…

I found it.

I’ve searched. And I’ve found it.

The thing is…. I don’t need it anymore, maybe.

I mean, the crutch of the ‘voice’.

I have learned to speak. Maybe it’s time to screw the training wheels off…

Bittersweet.

It renders my absolute crushing need for writing and creating images…. for everything that I felt I was not and for everything that these words and images reassured me that I was at a time when magic was king and the image superb.

The time when I felt so much more than I could understand and express.

That time.

Like a neuron in the prefrontal cortex suddenly jolted with electricity. For seconds… maybe minutes?

I could express, empathize… feel

just something. Something that was important.

Maybe I was fool, maybe I was young, maybe I was sad.

Maybe at the time the blinding white glowing node in my heart ached for something that my brain didn’t understand.

It’s time to move on…

 

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