It's not really funny...

I used to get humour from my own random wanderings of thought. I used to enjoy trying to find ways to express those thoughts. I used to have ways....motivation, outlets, templates of potential.

I used to laugh for no reason, and really thought it was funny. Now I find myself laughing if only to keep from crying.

This may sound like a pool of pity, but instead it is more hopeful than that. It seems I have found that proverbial plateau that I have been looking for since I kicked my drug habit. OK...not so melodramatic....I am talking about the serum for melancholy that has been coursing through my system for the past...mmmm....12+ years.

I have found my balance. My creative surges offset by my mind-numbing droll loll have found their even keel. I found myself taking some pictures last week that I actually liked. I have found my honest voice that still retains its effervescent sarcasm tinged with the smile of a cynic without malice. You may say that this sounds like the old drug addled me, but now I don't feel bad about it. I have come to accept that the person I have been suppressing is the person I really am...minus the guilt for being so.

Now I don't have an excuse for not being my true self....and that's not really funny.