Empty. Sky.

I can’t find the time.

It doesn’t make any sense when I word it like that.

I’ve been painting skies. That’s all that I can manage at the moment. I just want to stop existing for a moment. I can’t seem to escape myself right now. I want out, out of this fucking skin, out of my life – anything.

I’m drinking too much. I’m always drinking too much. Whether I drink or not I feel hungover.

I’ve been painting skies because that’s all I can manage, because the concentration – I can’t concentrate, can’t write, can’t paint, can’t focus on anything. Skies are easy, something relaxing to paint. It doesn’t require the precision… and I have lots of skies.

I feel like parts of me keep being pulled away, pieces crumbling under the stress of existence.

It seems like nothing will change. I remember now why I stopped taking my medication last time. Nothing changes, stasis, the inertia is overwhelming. Sometimes, it feels like the only thing that will make a difference is transformation.

Just an empty sky, colour without form.

 

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