I'm loosing it. Another Christmas, and again, just too much stress. Less often and intense than before, shorter outbursts than before, but still existing. Stress from shorter hours at work, wondering if I should by presents (and skip again for the 4th year in the row? H#%$ no!) and pay utilities, can I short a couple of utilities by maybe 1/4 of the bill or so and recover? Why hasn't one of my two room mates tried harder to get a job? Why do I let that one woman at work bother me so much?
Oh, the demon's that try to hide themselves as the loving faces of Shiva are yet again trying to tear at the walls I have - tearing through miles of concrete, steel, diamond, and exotic materials of imagination - crawling out of their gangerous tar filled deity's heart in a desperate attempt to bring me into their joy, feeling the heat of the fire, the warmth of the passion. Wanting desperately for the visions I see, the sounds that I hear, the sensations on my skin that I feel - to be real, for it to explode into existance in the common reality as if a massive black hole released all of it's energy, rebalancing it's warping of the standard space time into normal (big boom boom!).
But I don't. I relax. I hold on. I meditate. I let small bits come out and look out the window, perhaps even play inside, but they must, MUST, at all costs, always go back into the closet at the end of the day, ready for the next round.