More Excuses

I am back again, drawn to the blank screen feeling a need to write. But what should I write about? A poem perhaps? No, a poet I am not or at least not a very good one. My written work still tends to be more prose, so sometimes I do write proetry. Maybe proetry is not a real word, yet it describes what I sometimes write and i have seen or experienced or maybe even felt the works of others that wasn't really poetry but at the same time not exactly prose either. Proetry is a sort of writing that contains more imagery then prose but without the rhythm or rhyme of poetry and sometimes it contains the feelings in both.

So anyway, here I am feeling compelled to write. I like to think that it is God who is calling me to write but I still don't feel much inspiration to write anything of any real substance. I suspect that part of the lack of inspiration and passion comes from my feelings of depression. For a long time now I have been in a deep place that is more than just an emotional sense of sadness or despair or depression. There is a physical sens to this depression as well, and that is really hard to explain. I don't want to say it is like a weight on my shoulders though I imagine that some others who experience this my feel that very way. I do feel closed in like there is a skin tight shell around me, This shell does not protect me from the physical world yet there is a physical sense like a garment in constant contact with my flesh and hair. I think that this shell does insulate me, to some undefined degree, from the social world around me. Sometimes the sense of the shell closes in so it feels like it is wrapping around my mind; at these times I find it easy to slip into a trans like dissociative state that tunes me out of what is going on around me. I am not completely tuned out nor in a total trans like state because I can come out of it instantly in times of need so I am not totally out of control and, to be honest, I am not sure if anyone has ever actually caught me or been aware of me being in a trans like state. But sometimes this state can be a nuisance, say for instance when I sit down to write post for this blog, then the shell begins to close in, my mind empties of thoughts that I may have had about writing and I sit staring at a blank screen not knowing what to write. To compound the matter, there is a certain sense of comfort when I am in this state, I am alone, my mind is more quiet than usual, there is almost a feeling of numbness not only emotionally but aches and pains seem to recede and become distant.


----------------
Now playing: Pink Floyd - Learning To Fly
via FoxyTunes