Doctor, Doctor!

I'm going to the doctor's. I may loathe the idea of sleeping medications, but until my life isn't bound to normal sleep schedules by work and school, I have to find a way to cope. I may have to "cope" for the rest of my time on Earth. How bleak.

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It's been tough to keep a positive mind lately. At best I find myself neutral, which, if I must be somewhere, isn't a terrible place to be. Something I've known for sometime is that when I am "happy" or "content", I find it much harder to write a strong story. This is a sad fact of my personal style. This is made worse by my intense desire to be a successful writer. Ambition compels me to be unhappy and constantly discontent.These feelings force a higher immediate quality of work which is positive, but having such unpleasant feelings continuously is unhealthy and causes me to seek happiness. And again I find myself back at writer's block. I can find small happinesses in the good work I do, but that is not enough to sustain me. The cycle never ends.

Lucky for my writing, I am genetically predisposed to .... well, a dark outlook.

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It's lonely at the edge of darkness. Looking back, there doesn't seem to be a place for you in the light, but that bleak shadow ahead is terrifying. The abyss drops off and slips into the blackness; hitting the bottom would certainly hurt, but take a closer look. It's crowded down there. The last place you can find a place and everyone there is looking for the same thing. It's lonely at the edge of darkness, but if you fall in, you can find a different kind of loneliness together; and then it's not so lonely anymore.

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A girl with rosy cheeks and a sunny disposition is always hiding a dark secret. For that matter, a tall dark man in a long trench coat might just be cold and old fashioned. Someone with a loud laugh has the softest cry. And the quiet one in the corner reading the old book but hasn't turned the page; she's mostly watching people over the pages.

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Goodnight, even though it's nearly morning.
M.G.