Some pain is fuel. Perfect tinder for creativity. It hurts, but it opens you emotionally and allows raw truth to flow from your mind and into your art. Your fingertips, your paintbrush, your voice, your instrument. Whatever your art is. Some of my best writing has been done while experiencing pain. This, however, was not that. This pain was the type that led to me not writing at all in the last few weeks. Mental pain. Emotional. But it's only fair to do a quick recap before moving forward with this story, so here we go... On the 20th of May, a Monday, I venture into Atlanta with a local kid. The next afternoon, I wake up in the ER after having been unresponsive for 10 hours. I've been drugged. I was brought to the emergency room in an ambulance. I don't recall this. The nurse tells me they didn't think I was going to make it when the EMT's first brought me in. I am released in the evening and return to the campground where I am living. I feel violated.