Issues
This is my fifth (sixth?) time attempting to write this.
It’s nothing too bad. I promise.
It’s just that money is a problem, and as I currently am, I cannot make or hold onto a whole lot of it. It’s pissing my family off.
I feel like I’ve been on the brink of a breakdown for YEARS. Ups, downs, all arounds — it’s getting harder and harder to keep smiling.
I’ve got an appointment in the weeks to come. Maybe it will be all talk therapy and I can keep on keeping on, or maybe it will be medication — which can get a bit weird.
Remember the crazy ranting of my teenage years? Yeah.
That was when all my poetry dried up. Though I’d already stopped talking to you V. because my brain makes everything scarier than it has to be. Credit to you for trying to keep in touch, but there wasn’t much you could do from the UK for me in the USA.
(When the light falls dim
in darkling shade
with winterberry hearts
I drink and think.
Would you remember
what I do?
Would you hold on
like me?
Oreo-kisses and girl sighs
overhung by the world
cast in silver linings
I breathe in the moon.)
Its been years and gone. My life since has been polite acquiescence to the whims of my mental health. Cutting things out, dimming things down, folding myself up into a little box while the world outside passes me by.
Its reached the point where I’ve either gotta fix my brain enough to get an out-in-the-world job, or I’ve gotta fix my brain enough to be able to build and maintain my author brand.
As it is, without structure and guidance, I’m losing track of time and my schedule falls all to pieces. I need to be able to focus, and I can’t.
I’m anxious about the appointment. But its been a long time coming.
~Pax