SEO says I need to say blinded by concepts once before beginning.
I’ve never had a healthy relationship with money. I fear and despise it but want and need it just as seriously. My feelings towards an arbitrary object conflict with the social constructs of our world. This is the reason I struggle with financial freedom.
I really did believe at 23 that dropping out was the healthiest thing I could do for myself— that despite the judgemental comments and looks I knew I’d get, there would be nothing more freeing than being truthful. So, I became honest.
However, honesty in the face of pathological liars and hypocrites is like dumping sugar in your drink and calling it healthy. It’s just another drug to be addicted to.
Knives and razors were the best of friends I slept with day and night because depression is a companion that stays in all hours of the day. Open 24/7. My own special 7-Eleven glued to my heart and brain like a tumor except we can’t see the lumps growing and invading. —Except, cancer is real and depression is a demon only those who have seen it know that it exists.
I see ghosts reflected in my eyes.
Invisible monsters hidden behind closet doors of my childhood linger with me.
And I know how bad it’s become when poetic lines drip like freshly brewed coffee. Aromatic.
Romantic in its concepts.
Bitter in its nakedness.
Drowned by sugar.
And keeps our eyes open, not letting us go until the next dose seeps through.
Hey, I’m back. Sorta. Writing here and there and agonizing about whether to cut this short every hour and chickening out.
By the way, I got a puppy.
I missed her super tiny days but am here for while she grows up. I have some mental health things to talk about when adopting/caring for Maya too.