(no subject)
Maybe I have tortured artist syndrome. You know, the one where the simple act of being happy makes you unhappy because so many sources of creativity disappear with the presence of happiness. And then without meaning to, somehow you make yourself unhappy again because that feels more productive, more right, than anything else. When the only contentment you can find is through a twisting maze of unhappy emotion.
I may start writing in here more often. Most if not all will be friends-only. If you're reading this, you're lucky I didn't make this one friends-only, too.
I may start writing in here more often. Most if not all will be friends-only. If you're reading this, you're lucky I didn't make this one friends-only, too.