I Made It

 If Sylvia Plath was right about anything in her short life, it is that you never know, never can tell just when the bell jar is going to descend and everything is suddenly going to go quiet. I narrowly escaped a hospital bed this time, but feel like it was by some miracle. I made a few paintings that I’ll show in the next few days that are still drying. They maybe reflect a little of my gratitude that things weren’t far worse. When it does descend, the air is thick and brown and very, very heavy. Limbs become leaden and colors, as we know them, cease to exist. I’m feeling better, though- I made it through yet another cycle and, most importantly; made it out alive.