You can't push passion. Or artistic inspiration. It just happens and takes over. Something that you want to do, think you should do, have a passion to do. It's a fickle thing. Driven by emotion and a balance of making yourself do something and wanting to do something. My head is in the clouds. Refuses to come down to earth. And I know it's a plan of self-preservation. Coming to the earth plane means submerging myself in anxiety and darkness. At least right now. You can force positive thinking on yourself and wrap yourself in a layer of affirmations. Fake it till you make it. Look for the positive in every problem. But sometimes you just need to stare reality in it's face and calmly look at it. Begging it to transform into something else is futile. Attempts at metamorphosis are best left to Kafka. I'm still here. Standing in the muck and mire. And also so thankful for all that garbage thrown onto my path. It makes me stronger, no?