No wonder writers are addicted to some kind of vice.

I get this overwhelming feeling every time I start to write. Just had to take an anti-anxiety pill just to write. When I think about writing, I get all of these wonderful thoughts of what I want to write about, then I sit down in front of the laptop and anxiety sets in, my chest starts hurting, my hands become heavy, my mind feels like it's going to explode.

I have this wonderful mini-series to write, but it is all over the place. I am going to finish up some paintings then put away the paint brushes until I have the first book written. I must get rid of this book out of my head. It overwhelms my days with no completion.

Most of the persons I have to write about, that have brought me to this place in life, are dead. They are at peace and I still live with the torment that they caused, my mere existence here on earth. I would much rather trade places with some of them, just so I can stop the night and day nightmares I have to live with. A dirt nap sounds so inviting some days that I contemplate it with awareness than I think of my sons and their children, it would not be fair to them.

The ones that are alive don't even have a thought of what they did to me.
Someday, I will finish this book and all the demons I live with will be released to the world to see, times have not changed at all. Hundreds of years ago life was cruel, that was not the good old days, just like the last 60 years for me and the next hundred years ahead. People are cruel.