Well, maybe not each day…. I’ve been playing with this piece now for months. Randomly adding a shape or two and shading. All free-drawing, no plan, no goal… no idea where it will go.
Teenager. Green, gold. MUDs, EQ, and love.
And back, Red. White. Blue.
Blue? Me too. For some time.
Then school. A long, hard trawl. Success.
A new start, 3000 miles away. Precipitated changed. Planned.
Care. A new apartment, new friends, a beautiful town.
In love with this new place. Home.
102 houses. Super Bowl Sunday.
A month later. My house.
Walk, touch, look. My house. Mine.
Comfort, love. Renovations. Make it mine.
CrossFit, health. 80lbs lost.
Love. The romantic kind.
10 years of isolation, unprepared.
My home, my success, my power.
Love. With a fiction. Manipulated into believing fiction was truth.
Red flags. Everywhere.
That day, the names, the kitchens doors slamming.
Lost. Dazed. Confused.
Hands, shoulders, shook.
Water, was in the cup, now…
Home. Mine. Changed.
Coerced into making it look and feel no longer MINE.
A move, fleeing. More fleeing. Mania of psych meds, unnoticed, or encouraged?
2 years, too much to think.
Suburbia gone. Country here.
Still mine but not mine.
Who am I?
Another new start. Back.
A home. Beautiful home.
What was mine. What was me.
My comfort, my home, my life, my independence.
What I worked for.
Discarded in the wake of evil.
Now, here. Be here now.
Sleeping in the brightness.
Awake in the dark.
Desolation, isolation, loss of hope.
Never mind happiness, but what about contentment?
For the planned life I lived.
For the plans I made and discarded.
Will happiness come?
Who am I?
Health. Happiness. Comfort.
On top of the world. Best days of a life. Success.
A chance given.
That flag? Ignored. Burning bright, bright flames. Red hot.
Hope & Optimism.
Misplaced. Not him. Not her. “It”
What they were once and claimed to have healed
Chance. After Chance.
Fires burning everywhere.
Loss of dreams.
Loss of hope.