I am not unfortunate. I am not broken, not beaten, not worn out, not depressed nor depressive. I am blessed and I know it and I count the ways. Sometimes things hurt, sometimes they strain and crack and fray, but they can be repaired, put back together. Being, in general, one of the stupid spoiled and happy ones, I pull myself together. Just sometimes, the effort of doing so leaves me tired, is all.
Saved Nut #5
Waldo. The kind of rather confessional, from-the-heart narrative I have ended up not doing much of, mostly because I quickly realised I didn't have that much of interest to confess. But it was one of those times when I felt I had said just what I wanted to say in the way I wanted to say it, without being too long about it. Only edited for a bit of punctuation and grammar. Cutting this old stuff is harder than I thought, largely because it's difficult for the person writing now to intervene with the person writing then. The act of writing in itself changes one. Sometimes.