It’s incredible how secure we can fool ourselves into thinking we feel. Last night after improv class, my friend K and I sat on our cars talking for an hour. We talked a little about this, a little about that and then a little more about this and that.
As we were talking, it occurred to me: I still don’t know what the root of my “shit” is. There are certainly significant events, some of which I’ve written about in this space, some of which I haven’t, which have me all turned around inside. And that’s…fine…I guess…But…
The feelings that do, and don’t, go through my deepest subconscious and conscious have GOT to be tied to something more than “just” a chemical imbalance.
Right?
Waiting For That Rocket 
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