To be writing again is strange. The only thing that comes to mind is of two subjects and two subjects alone. It either has to be about that time in June, or the past several months in the Winter that I was severely depressed.
I choose to write about the latter for my own sanity. The wounds are far too fresh for me to coherently write something and not be effected by it under any circumstance. The other is more manageable, controllable and I believe I will even benefit if I were to analyze and write a story about this. I am not sure what I will do with the story eventually, however, it is better than not writing at all.
I live to write and writing is as essential as eating, sleeping, excreting waste and taking care of other bodily needs. It is also one of the most dangerous things I can do to myself. It is lethal where it can either make or break me. I tie my misfortunes, mistakes and inability to grasp ideas, life, people with if I am writing, or writing enough or not. Crazy, huh?
After a long pause though, it's great to be writing fiction again.
I choose to write about the latter for my own sanity. The wounds are far too fresh for me to coherently write something and not be effected by it under any circumstance. The other is more manageable, controllable and I believe I will even benefit if I were to analyze and write a story about this. I am not sure what I will do with the story eventually, however, it is better than not writing at all.
I live to write and writing is as essential as eating, sleeping, excreting waste and taking care of other bodily needs. It is also one of the most dangerous things I can do to myself. It is lethal where it can either make or break me. I tie my misfortunes, mistakes and inability to grasp ideas, life, people with if I am writing, or writing enough or not. Crazy, huh?
After a long pause though, it's great to be writing fiction again.
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