i don’t know if this is writer’s block…it feels more like mental constipation. i can’t really think in the way that is going to make sense to anyone outside of my head. i am not sure how well i am thinking things out. the worst feeling in the world. i can let go of the motor skills and i can even become friends with the pain….but my mind…that is all i have. all there ever really was. so is this the next step in the journey? amy keeps asking what i am feeling…but it’s not about feeling, it’s about thinking. she thinks it’s a fear but it’s not fear. it’s more of an anticipation before an impulse….that millisecond before your brain receives the information that you are being burned. it’s a limbo in between reality and perception and i can’t help feeling i am never going to be free of this horrible arena. it’s my personal hell. i tell people all the time just work…even when you don’t feel like you have anything going on up there just work and it will start to come. i guess if i have ever felt even a glimpse of this before now, i focused my attention somewhere else, but now i am stuck in tar struggling to get out. hopefully there is some cosmic lesson on the other side or maybe some god somewhere is getting a good chuckle out of it. then maybe it’s useful somehow. for now i just write and stay accountable to the fucked up process.