The last few months of my life have been tremendously confusing, not to mention glum beyond any definition of the term deep depression, but I still found time to manage and took advantage of that time to find my release. I know that now. At the time, I didn’t
Attention. The drive inside of me that craves it is unpalatable. I try to subdue any impulsive cues for unwarranted behavior, but sometimes I give in. We all give in at some point. What I needed to realize is that I thought of this attention in a very narrow way. I never believed that writing was also a part of that nature. Of course it was, now that I think of it, but I always wanted it to be something more. There is this intrinsic need to write. It is my release.
I will always write, but I think that I need to differentiate writing for myself and writing for an audience. A think a brief pause is needed.
Sorry for the unedited stories. I haven’t had the time to edit, but I hope you keep reading. And soon enough I will be ready to continue my stories and polish up the rest.