Friday

I know full well how to write of pain,
And of love, of loss, of joy…
But how to pen down
This bleakness?
How to give shape to
This haze of gray
That obscures my unraveling,
To make it real,
So I don’t feel fake,
An imposter seeking an excuse
For my own laziness.

I was once a person, in myself
I miss her, as one misses
The closest of friends
Through a blur of tears
Shed for no reason
Desperately seeking distraction
Through the electronic devices
Strewn around me,
Leaching an existence
Out of remembered joys
And luxuriating in the anxieties
That keep me hemmed in here
For at least anxiety is a feeling
Distinguishable from the bleakness
That suffocates

I wish I could be her again
So that I know she was real
And that I am, as well.

A portrait of the artist as a self-absorbed obsessive with existential angst

This is what happened when I was too anxious to go out all day and the power kept going off so I couldn’t work.

Anxiety day me in colour

The original is more purply than blue. Something happens when I photograph it that distorts the colour. That’s why I like the black and white version better.

Anxiety day me black and white