I'm waffling at the moment.
Wanting to write.....needing to write, but when I set fingers to keys...
Its dark energy.
Angry, blazing words that spring to the tips of my fingers.
Not sure where this is brewing within. That's a lie, I do to...I just don't know if I should indulge it? or wait till that particular pot of festering memory-stew cools a bit on the counter in my mind.
part of me want to unleash it and watch it fly. heh. Like an angry monkey slinging poo.
Another part of me wonders...is there a way to uncork it and write the pain into a powerful piece that will help others.
Yet another part of me is packing to return to the winter slumber land of S.A.D.
Waves after waves of wanting to burn my self. Just for sport.
I hate the self injury urges that are like that. The ones that have no immediate trigger..just a stray desire to inflict pain where there is none.
I have two goals this winter.
One I mentioned last post.
The other is to put to paper as much of the "forest stories" as I can. With the goal next year of collecting them all into a coherent collection and self publish it through one of the many on line sites available.
To make money and be rich? To be famous?
No. That has never been the goal of the forest stories. To ease others pain for a moment, to reach out and connect with another and make them feel seen and understood....yes, those.
Sadly the best time for me to write forest stories is in the darkness of the S.A.D. Being deeply depressed is unfortunately....a very creative environment for me. (as well as so many others)