My bad mood carried me 2 think about how much it sucks 2 be a victim of these deadly spell. I am helpless against its weight, incapable of tearing off the peel and running free. Instead I turn in on my self as a prisoner of my own judgemental mind, n is unable 2 escape the wrath that’s direct me. I think about the job that I am stuck in, my years of failure n my lack of direction. I think about the notes I would never publish, the sketch I would never sell. I m worried about money and condemn myself 4 spending so much of it I had. The thought’s goes on n on 4m money, career 2 focusing on my deepest fears and my getting more uncertain with the passing years. I start 2 feel hopeless n locked in n all I can do is find some respite 4m this inner narrative of pain is 2 sit down right here and write my bad mood out of me like an informal exorcision….
PS photo credit ::; Google