​I’ve always acknowledged other people’s mental anguish and suffering but never my own . It seemed so selfish to do so. However, I see in my loved one’s eyes severe anguish and concern over me and within those eyes I see nothing else but a reflec@on of myself. I know I’m suffering but I can’t be seen or heard to be suffering. It’s embarrassing and I will be seen as someone who is losing their mind. In lock down I oBen reached out for a glass of scotch both in my mind and in reality. In between the blink of that thought the drink had already reached the boCom of my throat leaving a burning sensa@on in my chest. A momentary relief from my wild thoughts. My mul@ple selves are reaching out to you for some comfort and support but I don’t want to burden you my love. Mind scratches and blurs occur in my head causing my suffering to become nothing less but mountain high problems. Monsters and people with gnarling teeth come at me, aCacking my mind. I try to shake them off. It’s a wai@ng game, eventually they will go away … at least for today. My art teacher back in the day told me about Vincent and then Whiteley reminded me of Vincent when I was on the tram looking outside the window . These days I’m nothing but in the picture with Vincent.