paints and psychoanalysis

hmm.. i feel like readers of my blog have endured so much flak of me being melodrama, cryptic and such that its time i write something that hopefully is really heartfelt (something that I have probably not done for awhile)

i realise how interesting life is with emotions. it is as though life is a blank canvas with our daily events sketched on by an artist's pen before emotions come to give it the color, the bravura, the fortissimos and the pianissimos. but yet we do have to realise, as emotional people, that our color palettes dont only consist of the brightest of hues but also the impenetrable darkness of blacks and greys. somedays we get the bright hues, but we all do noe that there are certain issues that come a-knocking at times that upsets the entire jar of black ink and sloshes the canvas with a murky black that seems to cover everything. nothing seems to be working. everything seems tainted.

hmm.. i dunno how to continue this. but i think the thing is - i dun regret the way i am made up. yes, the inky blackness seems irrational and melodramatic. but i get to taste the poignant sorrows of other people's issues, i get to emphatize with others in their sorrows, and i also get the contrasting joys. and i like that. something tells me i really wanna be a psychotherapist. a christian psychotehrapist. is that possible?

haha. enuff said. if i made u worried over my previous post, i'm sorry. i'm really really fine now. =)