Usually my optimistic levels are below your average Debbie Downer and the colors of said levels are darker darker darker. So blacken and tarred that no flashlight nor lighthouse would ever help you get out of my hollow, monstrosity of a body. I consider it to be somewhere that Lydia Deetz would be happy to live in. However, lately there’s been some light simmering through these gloomy divisions, that I’m beginning to wonder if there’s a light at the end of this murky tunnel. Don’t get me wrong I’m not turning into a Care Bear anytime soon or nor do I wish to be one. I’m not one for the sunshiny disposition what’s so ever, but there seems to be a crack somewhere in these walls, that’s make me enjoy the luminous side of things. Of course, it’s going to take a jackhammer, a wrecking ball and the Hulk to break down this never ending partition, until my interior starts looking like the norm. However, until then I’ll put away the spackle, sand paper and the black paint…for now! I mean, a little light never hurt anybody, sometimes it’s the only way you can see things clearly.