I am starting to feel hungry.

I am starting to want to DO things, want to learn things, want to explore things. It sits inside me like an impatient, somewhat pleasant, somewhat uncomfortable gnawing.

It asks me why I am wasting time waiting for things… for money to come in, for the end of the day and the start of my free time…

It whispers to me of many possibilities, dreams, and creations.

A soft glow on the horizon promising a beacon fire.

I don’t know what I will have time to do, because I know this lease of life energy is bestowed upon me by the temporary store bought neurotransmitters, and that soon I will have to divest my mind of them and wander back into the near gloom. And things are not easy right now, and I don’t believe they ever will be, but the brightness and the colour are back, like they were when I was a child, so long long ago.

Has it really been that long since my true self was last free of gossamere sorrow?



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