While I am working on new essays, personal struggles are making productivity a challenge. Revisions to the already-done seemed like a reasonable addition to a light schedule.
It’s interesting to see what was. I fixed a few of my more obvious comma splices, but likely missed others.
I decided to keep the lower-case affectation. As my mother pointed out, it’s who I was at the time.
The description of depression still rings true.
i feel like i’m perched on the edge of a blade, balanced there. it’s fragile, and tenuous, and there are circling monsters all around. it would take little to send me over and i’m tired. i’m so tired of the fight.
it’s fatiguing when you’ve been fighting for years, and you do all the right things, and you go through the motions, but the demons are still there, waiting and circling, taunting you, telling you all the ways you’re wrong.
i resent the need to make the effort, at times. i resent trying to stay positive. i resent that simple things like eating are such a challenge.
i hate the dark thoughts i’m constantly battling back. i don’t want to focus on the things i can control.
i want to rage and scream and cry out about the unfairness of it all, even though i’m aware that no one promised…
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