A key…

Time, tide and the elements beat things up a little; even the cold store where the fish was kept had to succumb eventually. Over the years things get chipped and broken, smoothness cracks, shiny enameled veneers flake away until all that is left is the darkness of what has always lay underneath, hard and black.

My mind is like that cold store. Empty of fish and full of dark. Of course, I didn’t plan it that way it just always was. I’d rather that my head was full of pink fluffy sunshine than the dark clouds that sometimes fill my head to full. Where and how it started you don’t want to know, but it’s always been there; making me see something ominous in the clown, soon to be gone in the sunflower, less, not more, when there was always plenty.

When I paint my palette is muted, skies are stormy, my subject matter often worryingly sad. When I write something always sits beneath the text. A sunny day is spent waiting for the rain, a good meal, indigestion, an adventure, accident. Friendship is something I don’t deserve and don’t feel I have the right to. Success should go to somebody else who deserves it. And love?

Is this depression? I don’t think so. Is it low self esteem? If so then why would I want to share my thoughts with anyone who will listen? This is just the dark and all I have to do is open my head and let the sunshine scare it away.

All I need is a key and a sunny day and everything will be fine.