Carl Theodor Thiemann (Austrian, 1881-1966), Bach im Winter II, 1912. Colour woodcut
(never good enough)
Reviewing my thoughts:
I basically think that the only way to be happy is to not be me.
Every time I think about the things I want to do, I get a knot in my chest.
I cried a lot this week and it’s only Wednesday.
I wish I could be more grateful for everything that I’ve been blessed with.
I’ve felt like giving up a lot this week.
I keep imagining myself doing things I could never tell anybody about.
I don’t want to worry everybody, but I think I just want to be comforted.
My heart aches for something I don’t know.
Ready to check out.