And then there are nights like last night.
When nothing you do goes the way you want it to.
Where every kind, supportive word from the teacher feels like a leadweight on your heart
Where the crowd never goes wild
Where the guitarist never reaches that bit in the song where the hairs stand up on your arms.
Where you get so fucked off with yourself that you just want to walk out and never touch a pencil again
Where the Depression Cloud settles in and obscures your vision.
Where everyone else seems to be getting it, producing masterpieces, but you are not.
And it takes every inch of what makes you to keep on trying.
Still - fairplay to the model, who must have spent ten years studying the Tantric Karma-Sutra (Yoga Edition) to be that bendy!
I really aught to give my Depression Cloud a name. Trevor is the current forerunner, but suggestions would be welcome (on a postcard please)