A Blue Pen Comes From A Depressed Soul

And it's true. I have had an interesting couple of months and though I'm still here, it hasn't been easy.

Everything that could go wrong, has. As much as I want to write about EVERYTHING going on in my life, I can't. More or less, I won't. All the anger that I've been feeling and the sadness that has consumed me, isn't something that I'm comfortable sharing with myself, let alone the world. (Chuckles) Imagine that, words that I won't share with others. Yes, it's that bad...

I can't even think right now because my mind isn't clear enough to articulate my thoughts. How crazy is that.?! I'm trembling as I am typing because even this admission is too much exposure for me, but I want to get some of this out. So if I'm not going to write about it as a poem, then I will write about it in my blog.

I love to write. Writing is my form of therapy and sometimes I feel that I abuse it. But then, could it be that it is my drug? Does it make sense that I am more addicted to writing than one can be to an alcoholic beverage or an illegal substance? I don't know, but if that is possible, then I am. However, I don't know of any help groups for my addiction.

It seems as though I am just rambling, but again, I cannot seem to articulate a straight thought. As much as I don't want to write about everything that is going on, it appears to me (after reading this entry) that I'm going to have to. That is probably the only way that I will maintain my sanity and make it through this "phase" in my life.

Just another hurdle, another test...