Escape Into Chris – Entry 10


Sketch By Chris Al-Aswad


March 2005 – Normal, IL

How do I trust or learn to trust? How do I place faith in simply being myself and not strive so hard to be the world’s next great author?   When if ever will I be able to not think about writing.  My consciousness, dominated by a few ideas branching off from one main purpose – I must be a great writer.  If I was only a writer, then I could take my time.  But I’m constantly reminded of the clock. And it removes me from the experience of life itself.  I would like to see my writing become something – I would like to let go also.  My mind is obsessed.  Can it become un-obsessed when I feed that obsession every day, nearly every minute.  What is that vital fluid that circulates my veins like hot lava? Will I ever know that the same substance – in the end – will kill me? Like my mother whose spark was too intense, I see her – in me.




  • Mgbarc

    I wish that I had known Chris’s mother; I believe that there must have been so much of her in him. I know how much he missed her when she was gone. And now, I so much miss Chris!