In Pursuit of Lightness

I used to have this recurring dream about a woman guiding me out of this maze of ruins. I could remember looking at her auburn hair shining in the orange sun as I followed her left and right. And then when I look away, I used to be outside and free.

(A bunch of stuff I backspaced)

The Portrait of Usman M. Khan looks dark and unfinished but I can make out the hint of a smile.

--------------------

I've noticed that talking out actually helps. Even if the person talked to is looking at you with the blankest stare, it just feels good to let out something that's been in knots in your brain for the longest time. And less stupid than when you do it alone.

Keeping stuff inside just makes it fester until the the buzz of the flies feels makes you want to claw your brain out.

Scores need to be settled, apologies are to be given. Perhaps eulogies.

If it wasn't me, it'd just be someone else. Not now, then later.
Who knows, maybe worser?

Some people had a tremendous amount of influence in shaping how I operate. I wish to apologize for making them know me through the process. I was and still am most uncomfortable to deal with. I hope in some karmic way, I too can be a source of intention and perspective as you are to me. Without you, the Portrait would have been boring and gray and wearing a check shirt.
Thank you for showing me a bit of the way, especially when waters were murky and signs, undecipherable. And for adding layers to a stubborn consciousness to see just a bit more than before.