Of course, I need hardly state that blogging is a life buoy for the sinking flesh of my mental state. I write at the desperate moments; only at the desperate moments, or the appropriately elated ones, charged with beams of hope that burn bright but falter and cease at the first real obstructions.
Blogging contains an element of both.
When the constant pang of need, the deafening hums of hurt pride; not feelings, for they are immediately aroused, with the effect of a injection of sugar or salt- how superficial!- when the surrounding edifice encloses you within its shrinking walls, you had best falter and pretend nothing wrong existed by blogging. By blogging, trusting the truth of your words as the world folds its possibilities like a blanket under your fingers, shaped into a soothing path from the insanity that thuds the thunder of its war drums reverberating through the dark of the darkening forest.
I will wander through the protected circle of my mind, tracing the possibilities in a way that would never materialize, unconscious of the flaws; never needing to awaken to a nightmare- posing as a detached mode, the patch you land where you fall from yourself. The quiet breathed alone darkness.
................................................Why do people blog about their lives?
No.No.No. I'd rather have nothing at all. It's better than the dark.
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