There is nothing but silence. The music plays. The card whirs. There is nothing.

Only the creation matters. The images is all that exists. The art is what brings peace.

The outpour of emotion. The emptying of an empty soul. The bleeding onto the screen, onto the white abyss of the freedom of a new document.

Many artists say there is nothing more frightening than an empty canvas. To me there is nothing more filled with horror than a finished piece. The safety of creation, the zone I was in, the escape from the pain and sadness drifts away and reality sets in.

The meds make their presence known, the chemicals fight their battle once again. My mind is torn between utter madness and caged sanity. One is absolute freedom, but an exit from reality and safety. The other a restraint from insanity and a return to the world of reason and logic.

One is pure of mind, the other pure of humanity. The choice for me is always humanity. I can live in humanity. The escape to the utter darkness of the ultimate blackness is not a choice I ever intend to make on my own. I know it is calling, I know it will come for me one day.

But not today.

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