I seem to be at a loss. I cannot find the enthusiasm to get back to my 8 hour a day painting schedule. I want to - but the moment I sit down and look at what's on the table I just feel a lot of nothing. No inspiration, no love of my talent to spur me on to greatness.
I am wondering if it's all the upcoming medical visits that has put me in this frame of mind. September I am off to have the doctors look at my marvelously sculpted flesh, and then to have either cut out or seared flesh removed. My last lot removed proved to be problematic and were nicked in the bud early enough not to warrant any alarm. Now I am not so sure.
My doctors seem to no longer provide me with any treatment. I am a lost cause, not that that doesn't stop them from seeing me and taking my or more precisely the governments money.
I am angry with the world at large. I am fallen and can find no succour. I watch the world drift by wishing that I was able to in some small way intereact with it. I always muse to myself when people ask me about my health. I always think that neither heaven nor hell wish for me to arrive, which is why I am destined to remain on this earth. I wonder whether hell will be a paradise compared to the hell which I name earth. There is nothing worse than outliving your world.
So as you can all tell, I am in a really cracking good cheer.
I am angry with the way my family is treated. Parents are now discouraging their children from socialising with my children. They see my children as a threat to their own childrens academic success. More importantly they fear my childrens rebel ways. It pains me when I consider how generous I have been with the other children, some I have known for 10 years.
Well I'm off, my wife Chelle has appeared and is demanding to be taken to the shops. Now to find a book to read while this all happens.