Surviving, Being Dead; Alive
Welcome, here you will find writings from a passionately passive introvert. She is mildly maddening, mostly misunderstood; as, she’s always danced alone…for good. The spirals of darkened suicidal wants bleed through her understanding of all and not. If it were just logic she would have, long ago, jumped off.
Amongst her stories you will find sprinkles of poetry, prose, and possibly passionate erotica. Not the best of punctuation but she loves to play with dots, dashes, apostrophes, & slashes. Being raised in a very destructive environment she had learned the only true release has been through her silent words to be written instead of heard. She doesn’t consider herself a writer nor a poet as writing has always been a part of her life, as far back, as she could know it.
Forewarning, she openly admits, a majority is depressive, as it has been her only consistent form of therapy over the years to expel that which rots her insides. She’s lived a life riddled by bad choice OF OTHERS to which she has paid more than her share. Living a hypersensitive/hypervigilance existence is a surreal blessing & curse to say the least.
Her mental health diagnosis is not particularly important, what is very important is her love to share w/others, so much so, even those suffering unseen are still felt deeply w/in and she will always feel compelled to reach to those who seem the most removed. She’s been there more than once & not many will ever be able to fathom an existence here after such.
She relates to those who know nothing intimately and, to which, cherish everything least the same.