This is what I got on the blog to write last time I posted. It went a different way for some crazy reason.
It’s no joke. Something I have suffered from for decades has gotten worse in the last few months because of my dark times. When I’m in dark times, I like to read angsty girl books. I picked up Sylvia Plath’s poetry book Crossing the Water from my shelf today and started at the beginning. I stopped reading when I hit her poem Insomniac on page 21. Here’s the part I related to the most:
He is immune to pills: red, purple, blue–
How they lit the tedium of the protracted evening!
Those sugary planets whose influence won for him
A life baptized in no-life for a while,
And the sweet, drugged waking of a forgetful baby.
Change he to she and that’s me. From no–life through to forgetful baby is a happy, happy time for me. I’m still trying to get to that light.