fuck 2013
It is a new year. And as seems to be my usual I find myself reflecting on a year that was more down than up. A year where I again found myself mistaking happy for manic, just because I forgot what it feels like. And then this week I remembered, was reminded, that the soul must be fed. And that my soul does not thrive on light alone. I need the passionate dark that is not hiding but celebrating its pain. Riding agony and unrequited love through the night on a dark horse from hell.
(I’m not a writer, so I am shameless in the face of my bad emo metaphors. They sound juvenile, I am sure, but are cathartic none the less.)
Crossposted from Dreamwidth.
(I’m not a writer, so I am shameless in the face of my bad emo metaphors. They sound juvenile, I am sure, but are cathartic none the less.)
Crossposted from Dreamwidth.