Even worse than the depression days are the days that I float like a bubble to the top of the cotton-white clouds. I'm oblivious to everyone and their hurts. Their annoyance points become open to me and it takes no effort to irritate people. And as much as I try to stop, I can't...I just poke and poke and poke.

But I like myself when I'm at odds and ends. It's a strangely comforting thought that reminds me that I'm not quite normal somewhere. And if I'm not quite normal, I can't be forgotten...right?

It reminds me so much of the reason I love performing. People can't claim you don't exist if you touch them *does a Wayne tapping his heart* here.

So why aren't I performing?

Maybe I just don't feel the need to express myself through another vessel anymore. I have good friends who accept me no matter which end of my personality they get. That's more then I ever thought I'd get.

Maybe the politics and tight rope-walking in that drama group killed the high I used to get.