This so called depressive realism I battle with has always given me a clarity of thought that is so much more potent than pretty people and pretty pictures can ever be, perhaps it is because although it is forever changing I know it will continue to exist in some sense. I tend to return to this place when periods of distraction end and the colours that first caught my eye fade into the background, no longer burning brightly through the dark of the night. I used to think the answer to the question my being embodies existed inside another whose particular hue matched my own, I realise now I have been deluding myself and like I read (and was not ready to accept) a few years ago in 'Women who love too much' I am facing up to being alone in the world, as each of us always has been. We may kid ourselves for seasons at a time that those artifacts and relics can make us complete when we finally find the missing piece or the perfect partner, sooner or later though we are bound to be forced into seeing the illusion for what it is (the first part of the word even hints at this). We are complete and whole as we are made and though the perceived void each person houses varies from one to an other, it cannot be filled with anything outside of ourselves. Only you can answer your own question as I can mine and I think I'm on the right path. With every illusion comes distraction and there is often fun and happy times so let's get drunk and dance with abandon!
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