Why did it feel like it was happy in the past.  Did I cover it up with a false reality?  At that time I realized all the pain and suffering, and I wished to be at that age where I could look back and laugh.  When I learned to look back and laugh, I forgot about all that pain.  But the pain definately existed, even though I painted a picture of happiness in my later years, that pain definately hurt, but it took time to realize that.  I had not realized that I had painted such a happy picture over mud, but now when I look back I am no longer sure what was mud and what was a lotus.  Maybe they are both and the same, maybe I turned that mud into something beautiful and when the lotus began to wither was I finally close enough to the mud to realize this had come from mud.  When the lotus is gone will I finally be able to indulge in that time?  Will my truth finally be reborn?  It feels the same as before, but the path I walked has shown me that I can change that time.  I shouldn’t be changing it, I should always keep thinking, and when I keep thinking and when I remember, forget, or paint over it, I’ll be able to dig back and correct it.  I’ll fix the painting, by ripping it apart and pouring all those emotions together again back where they belong.  I’ll draw again.

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