Chapter 2 of an original comedy web serial--EXCERPT: When he called forty minutes ago, Dex said nothing specific, only something about him being sick or whatever and to please, please come over ASAP, and to tell Boss Man it was totally his fault for me having to bail on work. (Dex doesn't know Boss Man's actual name and has never asked. Sometimes even I forget his real name. He's the dude that signs the paychecks and that's all that matters. Beauty of working as a newbie, fresh-out-of-college graphic artist at a chill, online magazine with a focus on conspiracy theories and pseudoscience.)
Chapter 1 of an original comedy web serial--EXCERPT: "Like fingers from a closed fist or the petals of a budded flower, I feel the new limbs open until they pull completely free of my skin. This is at once terrifying and oddly familiar...almost as if I'm allowing myself a satisfying stretch after being cooped up in a small space for hours. They continue to expand, nerves, sinews, muscles, bones lengthening at the buzzing speed of shooting stars, stretching out until they must be twenty feet across or more."
Gratitude is never first on the scene. Like anger, it's a reaction only, more often a choice, and when consistently pursued, a habit. Like other emotions, it's a fuel. But unlike depressive states, it's not a fuel that burns me down to ashes, it's a fuel that drives me forward. It's flexible to any kind of attack, has no end, and it can roll any which way. Like a sphere, I suppose. Love is also like that. To me, gratitude in the midst of my circumstances, no matter what they are, is an expression of love toward my God; an unwritten love letter lived out.
A poem about the relentless pursuit of my Love through all my darkness and storms.
Blogging Awards, thanks, and nominations.
I've written a lot while in the throes of depression to give you a glimpse into my mindset while I'm in the deep, but I haven't written about mania while I'm in the midst of it yet. ...Well. This should be interesting.
25 days and 8 hours. That is the amount of time that has passed since my last post. I've responded to a few comments, liked a few posts, but the words have dried up at the tips of my fingers like the petals of a flower in the desert.