You tell me and you tell me NOW

It's Tuesday and I feel like I'm back being a bartender. People think, somehow, it's a glamorous life to be a bartender but it really isn't. I felt morally and ethically compromised being a bartender for a long period of time. With that said, I do not feel that I am compromising my morals by any means right now. I feel like I'm standing still, in an elevator, waiting for my floor of uncertainty to arrive and listening to the worst of Kenny G in the process. (Sorry mom. Easy listening is not easy to listen to for me).

So here I am. I have it really good compared to a lot of people and I'm not saying that to brag, I'm really not. I am saying that because something is missing. I feel like I should be doing more. Feeling more. Moving more. Experiencing more. Just more. But I don't know what it is.

I went back to painting for a very short period of time and it hasn't filled me up. I've had my highs and my lows. I've run around like a crazy person and I've sobbed in bed for a couple days straight. But where do I go from here. Where is my joy? How do I find it? Who do I ask? I'm emotionally laying low and incognito. I feel bipolar and almost ready to snap, then again it's almost numbing.

I am truly blessed with what and who are in my life, so why am I not elated? Why do I feel so empty? And why aren't the answers smacking me in the face?

I sold a painting and it was nice to give a little part of myself to someone who wanted it. Is that it? Am I not wanted? Do I crave necessity from a deeper place? Should I grab my notebook and painstakingly crave my grey heart out in poems that makes others weep for me?

I have found that my best works of anything have comes from the deep, dark, painful hollows of my soul. That place no one likes to visit, yet I know all to familiar. The place my rage comes from. hmm? Something to look into. If something is stirring, it needs to come out. If it doesn't, my anguish will continue.

I want to sleep for days. But alas, I cannot.

To the bat cave!