....the dark days of my mind press down like the summer heat...it's easy to draw a curtain between those dark days and the full-functioning consciousness that will carry me through the day. But out of sight is not out of mind; I know about the little man behind the curtain. I can see the outline, the silhouette of what waits, what always waits.
I am not delusional. I understand my flaws, my weaknesses. I suffer from a sometimes debilitating self-loathing. I wish I didn't. I wish I could shed the ice that, as a friend of mine once wrote, "comes to cover [my] heart."
This is why solitude is so much safer.
Dreaming of silence, of loneliness. Loneliness is perspective, solitude comfort. Dreaming of different kinds of angels, of a world where all is valued with love, rather than morality or economics.
Where are the open green fields?
Russia changed me, all those years ago. I was always restless, but Russia gave me a vision I would never had had otherwise, and it changed me, my mind. Added to the restlessness. I dream in vistas, in places, in terms of buildings and spaces; Russia sharpened that sensibility. All my travels have, but Russia in particular. Russia gave me a seriousness that was not borne from instability; rather, it was a seriousness borne from understanding how large the world was, and from standing in an overwhelmingly different context.
I need that again. Not necessarily from Russia (though I would never turn that down), but from somewhere, somehow. I want a new life, a new way of thinking. I want freedom.
I want to not hate myself, to overcome my fear of regret. To learn to live in moderation, without the demon of mania. To learn to sing the right songs, to say the right things, to live a simple life.
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