Wednesday, September 13, 2006
Blessing This Morning
I played around with my Myspace profile after finding a photo of Robert Johnson's crossroads. Tonight, I fall asleep listening to his damnation. Sometimes I feel close to his pain; he hurts like I hurt. His gifts are large, but he always feels wanting. I know I can write a bit, but it never seems to bear sweet fruit, only bitter berries of pain. When I lie awake at night, sometimes I wish to go quickly just so I won't feel any more. I don't think I'd be so down if I didn't feel totally alone as much as I do. Too much solitude is as sickening as none. We're social creatures, but it seems I'm not.