Emotions are heavy on my chest, like the weight of Kierkegaard sitting in judgment. In an effort to remove it at the root, I am fasting for two weeks. Perhaps, it will also serve to reawaken creative expression. A great deal of effort has been placed on seeing that the children thrive, and little attention has been funneled into art.
I am on my second day with no food. Everything is processed at a much slower pace. I find myself speaking one language, while the person I am addressing has no understanding of it. My body pulls me backwards, then down to the floor. When I sleep, the dreams are vivid enough to feel like a dull reality. I awaken to a heart that beats slow and heavy.
I invent so many odd things. This will amount to nothing, but a story to tell. Look at my collection of stupid things, that served no purpose. A small pile of misguided actions, and hair I lose from stress. Notice how the color is different near the top. A raven-haired cover-up. It is in the name of honest attempts. In the name of creative endeavors. My birth chart is all Libra on the verge of self-discovery. Libra with the scale off-balance, chanting a Buddhist mantra, followed by a Hail Mary.