Yesterday’s melodrama had me feeling bad. Maybe not “bad” more like: Let’s change things. There are plenty of times, as I spiral through life, my orbit feels lopsided.  First, for every misery I bemoan, there is a benefit I neglect. for instance,  I know I get on here and I dump my melodrama like fertilizer into a huge steaming pile. Better to have it here and dumped than to carry it with me all day.

The love or not to love business I am harping on; while I do get that abiding fear and weird logic, I also have a deeper respect and appreciation for those feelings when they come. Love still scares the living eff out of me, somehow that fear has made me pretty danged good at it.

My angst and brooding, while bending my perceptions, affords me an honesty and a strange appreciation for the little pleasures in life.

It’s really not as bad as I paint it. I do feel that despair and depth here and again, but the highs, the highs are there, too. Both lend themselves to my creative endeavors.

Things aren’t so bad.