F.R.E.D.

Making Way

Got up, made breakfast, struggled to write something. I found myself thinking about that darkness that crazy writers sometimes write about. This darkness can bring to life a contrast that makes the heart beat faster. That sense of being alive comes when threatened, why is that??

I don't get depressed easily. The memory of words from parents I pretended to ignore pulls me quickly from most any depression. Talking to my own teenager about suicide, underpants, drugs and soil, SUDS, if you will, makes me wonder happily about my own persistent lameness...