I raced to my coffee shop this morning with words leaking out from my brain, if don’t hurry they’ll all be gone before you get there,my mind shouted. So many things I want to say. Its so sad that as I think of all these important things I want to share with my tiny little world that they don’t magically appear on the page. This leaves me to try and reconstruct these profound revelations when I finally sit down at my keyboard.
The one thing I need to do is revisit the post I put up yesterday. It was a poem that was a true representation of my life dealing with the up and downs of depression. It was begun during a bad week, where it seems as if the Universe wanted to be sure I understood that even during those times when things are going well, a shit storm could be waiting just around the corner. The thing is, I also consider myself a writer (how did that happen?) and I was not happy with the way the piece was going. The trouble was that three weeks later, if I could consider it trouble, my mood had taken it’s expected rebound, and left me to finish a poem about sadness and depression while no longer in that place.
But…I couldn’t just let it go, I kept coming back to it. I liked the words and images it invoked and didn’t want to lose them. So after three weeks I finished it up as an academic exercise and posted it. I never gave a second thought as to the darkness of it’s message or its allusion to suicidal thoughts.
It scared the shit out of my brother, who started calling before actually reading to the end. I do feel bad for scaring him so badly but the sentiments were true and valid, just not at that particular moment. I guess I’ll have to start with disclaimers or trigger warning in the future.
Now what were those other words I was so frantic to get down on paper. There was something about the fog as a metaphor and some observations on Slaughter House Five. Oh well, maybe they’ll come back after a nap.