Last night, blunted as I was by agony, revolted on
food and distant bumbling noise of talk laughter, I ran out of house and walked
alone in the park beyond the building. What word blue could get that dazzling
drench of blue moonlight on the flat, luminous field of snow , with the
black tries against the sky, each with its particular configuration of branches? I felt shut in,
imprisoned, aware that is was fine and shudderingly beatiful, but too gone with
pain and aching to respond and become part of it!The dialogue between me and my Writings and my Life is always danger of becoming slihltering shifting of responsability , of evasive rationalizing: in other words:I justified the mess I made of life by saying I'D give it order, form beaty, writing about it: I justified by saying it would so and so, like Lady from Dickens Novel>''Great Expectations''! Now, I have to begin from somewhere , and might be well as well be with life; a belief in me with my limitations, and strong punchy determination to fight to overcome one by one. All this scars, wounds, lust's !
Tomorrow I have meeting with my pshyhitrist and I like him< attractive, calm, considered, well educated. With pleasant felt feeling of age and experience in reservoir : felt; as father..But If I am not ask for help me this agony would kill me; he has helped , to find exit..Now most of the things depends of me..First time on our seance I have burst out in tiers; me calm, so called frigid lady..?! Now we shall run small chat, about food and maybe my walls..Don't know..It sounds refreshing..to speak with somebody..sincerely, without the walls..this bloody feeling that somebody would hurt you if you are sincere..
So this is all about..
Anja
