I'm not looking for pity. I'm not looking for anyone to take care of me, pet me, cater to me. I'm just looking for a distraction.
/breathe
Books, baths, cats, my computer, knitting -- these all help -- but I still have those stretches where I only have the awareness of wanting to scream. I find myself panting, like an animal, trying to make it through waves of suffering.
/breathe
I'll be alright. I'm always "alright." One horribly annoying thing that came to my mind once (when I was going through the worst depression of my life), was that I never have the luxury of breaking. Gah. I'm far too solid and stubborn for that. "Breaking," crying, carrying on, grieving, whathaveyou. I carry too much strength for something that easy (damn that personal pride).
Well, enough Internal Dialogue. Here's a photo of my inchoate irises.

1 comment:
Um, that would be "POP". However, "Kablooie", "Ker-SPLOIT", and a few other Batman serial and MAD magazine spins come to mind.
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