Writing is a Lonely Business

But her soul was in ANTARTCTICA

So, I have a pretty big edit to this: When I write blog posts I am writing in the moment, with what is affecting me as I write it. I was having a bad few days when I wrote this post, and it’s a very negative post. I decided to leave it because it said something that I thought had value, worth. There will be dark moments like this when you dedicate yourself to any kind of risky solo venture like. It doesn’t mean it’s still true a week later.

The truth is that I’m kind of closed off, I don’t talk to people much when I’m in a bad emotional state. Then I kind of blast what I’m feeling to the world at large. It’s less emotionally risky than talking to people who actually care directly about me, who know me. The world as an abstract is just sometimes easier to talk to. It’s pretty messed up.

It also ignores the amazing support I get from my girlfriend, she’s an incredible person and deserves to be acknowledged here. So, Irina, I love you and I want to thank you for how much support you have given me.

I talked to my girlfriend today. Yesterday I talked to my landlord for a few minutes. I don’t know if I will talk to another human being anytime in the next few days. Honestly, being alone doesn’t usually bug me that much, but with the depression, I’m sometimes desperate for someone to talk to, so you, dear reader, get to be that person.

I’m going to talk about how isolating it can feel sometimes, sitting by yourself, hearing human voices occasionally over the phone, on the TV. Who knows. It’s a lot of sitting by myself in an empty apartment, and I’m usually good with that. I’m a pretty solitary person. It’s only when things are bad, when life is hard, I wish I had someone to talk to.

At least I have my writing to keep me company, my characters. Maybe I should have gone for a more Mary Sue approach. I torture my characters, destroy their lives. Right now that feels both cathartic and cruel, on the one hand, it helps to bleed the vitriol filling my veins, but on the other hand, it makes me sad to torture my only friends, after all, what have they done to deserve this?

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