All kinds of stuff floating around in there these days. Old hurts. New obligations. Deadlines. Procrastinated tasks. Enough junk to keep me awake, sweating. And no one would miss me if I were not there the next day. Biggest worry of all, that I am not important, hell, even integral in the Big Picture. Tiny identity crisis here in the little yellow house. Only one thing is certain; this will change really soon. A glimpse back into old journals assures me of that fact. Every terrible thing that visited me in the past is there, and in the past. Here's an unusual thought; ask for help! What an idea!
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