Picasso

What talent and beauty that he created. And yet some of his works... even some of his most known works appear to be a jumbled mess. It kind of looks like something, but to an untrained eye... you're just not sure.

That's kind of how I feel inside. Not like a work of art but more like a jumbled mess. Maybe this is tired speaking, but maybe not. My thoughts and feelings, if put on a canvas, would be all over the place. The eyes would be in the chest, the ears on the hands... and the heart... the heart would be on the floor? To explain why I feel like this is beyond what I can do... which is why I say that a part of this may very well be tired speaking.

When Picasso creates his "jumbled messes" they are beautiful... and that's where his art and my insides part ways. This is not beautiful... in fact I hate feeling what I feel right now. I try my darndest to NOT fix people that are broken but to simply listen and provide a firm place where they can lean and a broad shoulder to cry on and help them carry the wright of their world and a protector or guard to walk with them through whatever they are going through. But with me... that's a different story in that when I get like this, most of the time I try to fix whatever it is and I try to fix it right frickin' now! This is not a dark place that I'm in because I don't fear that, but embrace it. This is an ugly place that I cannot stand. And thus I try to fix it. But for whatever reason, I can't... I can't seem to get a hold of it this time and that bothers me to no end. Oh there are rays of light that pierce the ugly, but they seem to continue to be taken captive... and sometimes become ugly themselves.

I know I will bounce back. I always do... it's not in me to quit... on me or anyone else. I'll be back... but for now... for this present time I am like a work of Picasso... only without the beauty. God I hope it ends soon.