V

Happiness is a bottle of vodka and a smoke.  Motivation to do anything has all but gone.  Physically I feel ill and mentally I feel drained.  Happier days seem so long ago and darkness has replaced them.  I feel so alone, even among good friends.  Gathered around good company, I can only fake smiles and laughs.  Funny Italian accents and late night pizza can’t even bring me up.  Life has become a waiting game; me waiting for my mind to finally give into the enemy.  Why me?  What did I do to deserve this?  Why must my talent bring so much pain?  My face now shows how I currently feel.  My weathered and battered look gives warning signs to those around me.  Even those who can and do try to help can only watch on as I fight alone.  I so wish I could tell you what is wrong, but I don’t know.  I’m trying to defend against every demon or parasite known to exist.  Like a doctor, I try to find the cure by process of elimination.  I am fighting figments of my imagination with nothing more than a pen.  Oh what chance do I have?  I need help, but who can really help me?  Who will truly understand me?  Life has me stranded at a crossroads between sanity and insanity.  I want to be happy and without pain, but I also want to continue what I’ve started.  Life or art?  Boring or creative?  Life may seem the easy choice yet I find it hard to decide.  For now I will blindly trudge on into the black abyss.  Sometimes fighting for hopeless causes is better than nothing at all.