Last night it hit me. A cold wave washed over me. I knew it was happening again. It wrapped around me and pulled me under. I struggled for a bit, but ultimately gave in and went under. It felt familiar. I know this. I embrace it. It is my friend.
I’ve learned to wear my wounds with pride. I’m not exactly proud of my past, but I do not regret a minute of it. I wear my pain and suffering like a badge of honor as a constant reminder to not set myself up because I will fall again. That’s life I suppose. Every artist needs a tragedy. We all need to suffer to be alive. It keeps us grounded.
I won’t be down for long. Tomorrow I’ll probably happy again.
Part of me doesn’t want that.