Hello Expressionist,

I have been doing a deep deep dive into mental illness, trauma and abuse. It is a topic that has no bottom and therefore our culture separates it all into one lump sum of “Crazy alert”. Up until this last year I had a narrow view of “Mental” suffering that I thought was a solid understanding. Rude Awakening and necessary rumble if one is a person who seeks a natural ability to move about the cabin.

Can I believe that my intrinsic value lies beyond the money I fail to make or my identification to the monetary world. The environment surrounding me measured the apple not far from the tree steeling petty items for my dad to eat before he starves to death. A heavy burden to carry into the work desperation to prove that I fell further from all kinds of jealousy projected onto my doings.

I forgot how to be and dropped my boundaries to keep my ego in survival protection to stay afloat. Opening me up to a pigeon hole which separated my longing and cattle call to keen eye to see global pain bodies that I am grateful to disassociate myself from with other misfits covered in shame. Hypervigilance to keep the arousal at bay so that I do not sink into my same pattern to fawn, fight and apologize my way out of this pressure to think it correctly. Stuck in the thought of dreams warning me in ways that take to long to interpret.

I freeze in the moment hoping my flaws don’t take me over and layer a build up of mental stress in which my therapist wants to drug away to save the time to research my song. Double swords that extend a lifeline with fire at the end of his rope wrangle right hand man’s. The man has become the woman and the wound was created in the womb during the turbulent sensory awareness of the circumstance that drama placed in my DNA to unravel. Not at the seems, watching auntie sew up my school pants and patching up memories that linked us together until things got twisted and mental health became a dirty word to a secret denial that the tribe can attach loyalty to.

I dare point it out. The continuum of sanity that present a line in which every person on earth can cross at any time during news event that hit home. Misery loves company when noone listens to reason. Who turned out ok with a little discipline and a firm hand. A closed heart is no measure to a turn up with their hair done and sneakers all laced up. A photo is worth a thousand words posted on my social media to make up for a 80’s style run in the woods. When i was a kid parents neglected the children in noble ways and sticks and stone placed in the corner for a real time out. Glory days of do as i say and we will give you something to commit yourself to a life of stifled back tears.

Anger is for men and mom’s. If a justification does not exist to show me that your black berry is not updated to 6G then you have no legs to stand up for yourself with. Mad mommy stretched thin with the order of the house calculating every coupon that stretches the new brain to convert to bitcoin. A crypto laid out in check marks of benchmarks despite the dinner party silence and quarrels. My tradition of gatherings suppress this with jello shots and a guitar medley that we can all almost sing to. A superstar must refrain unless a perfect pitch reflects the upbringing we must honor they ten commandments to demonstrate to the youngins splashing way too loud in the pool

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