The Cold Inside.

When I arrived in this Godforsaken desert back in August of last year I sat across the desk of my counselor a quivering swallowed eyed wreck. He asked me a simple question: "So, what are your plans for the future?'

Let me try to explain this - and I am not being theatrical - this is the best I can come up with: a big black cold nothing. No vision of anything. No fantasy of nothing. Blackness - inky darkness - empty silence. And the feeling from it sadness and cold loneliness.

That's it.

When I was a kid my mind popped - over flooded with images of what my future would be like. Bright lit candy-colored tableau. A famous film director making blockbuster hits like Lucas and Lynch. World famous - my name a household word.

Now - nothing.

I started with MHMR - the local nut factory here in El Paso - and began their treatment program, took their psychotropic medications, went to their therapy - and several months later...

I feel the same. Nothing. So empty and cold inside.

I feel like a corpse waiting to be sent to the grave - I've done so much in the past decade - what is their left to do? I have no impulse to go in any other venture - no drive or spark for any project. I don't want to do anything, talk to anyone...

At this point perhaps termination of this borrowed flesh is the only step forward.