This isn’t a poem. It’s a self – indulgent sort of listening to Billie Holiday in the rain wallowing in self -pity kind of cliché and I know it. So let me do it, just this once.
I have a painting in my head at the moment: In it, I am smiling. The colours in the room are warm and slightly hazy. The rug underfoot is rich and deep and my trousers are rolled up to my ankles. I can hear the faint buzz of engines and chatter of people outside. I am not too hot or cold: just right. I am holding a toddler who is laughing and holding on to my ears. There is a woman behind me but she is a blur. She is leaning against a wall with folded arms and her head tilted slightly to the side. I know she is smiling without having to look.
My actual canvass has lonely, unsure, stuck, futile, sad, stressed, unclean brush strokes. I don’t know how to change. In my mind I see pictures and I try to mimic them in life. This is destined to fail. You can’t recreate a picture completely; it is impossible. I am lost.

What is your question? I'm lost here -

Heed your own words to someone else, "stop it..... go out and get a hobby."

Stop choosing to be lost.

You can sometimes re-create a picture, especially in your mind and then some. You are beautiful and thanks so much for sharing! Anything else to share would be greatly appreciated as you are talented and again, beautiful.