Transcription
7/13/15
Irish Soup
Notes - Rambling - Poems - Short Stories - Art - Steve
Happy birthday, my sweet lover. To me, it will always be your 17th birthday.❤
What will the message I leave on the prison walls be?
My worse fear is waking up one morning and being uncrazy. Can you imagine how hard it would be being a sane man in prison?
Every night, I go to bed holding you in my heart. Every morning I get up and tell you I love you. I miss you so much. I'll try to call today. :) ❤
I try to paint a little every day. Some days, like most of June, it's just too hot. Other days, depression sets in so bad that it's actually hurts me physically.
Although I use mostly pictures to paint from, I don't hardly ever paint the same picture. But what I see in the pictures (the shape, the color), I add and subtract from. You wouldn't even know some of the pictures I use for paintings. :) ❤
Some days seem to go on forever, but they're not nearly as long as the nights. The long midnight hours, waiting in the pre-dawn hours. Am I the only one who feels it? Blue. :(
I need at least two or three feet of my own space around me. I hate it when people just reach out and touch me while they're talking, or to get my attention. Or for that matter, any other reason.
The reason older people sound impatient is simply that we are. Time is slipping away and we have only so many years left. I don't want to spend them alone and waiting. "Wow, this is taking forever!" :) ❤
Every morning, I get up and look at the picture on my wall and say I love you to each and every one. ❤
Leave a message, ask a question, give me advice, just say hello. Paint me a picture with your words. Remind me how great life is. :)
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