I did not finish my novel in the month of November. Sad, I know. But I have the foundation for another great story and I have grown a lot in the past four weeks. I also submitted a short story to Writers Digests competition. I'll find out in February if they are going to publish it.
Lately I've had a lot of issues with myself, with things that have happened to me, and with my relationships. I have pin-pointed where a lot of that has come from so I can hopefully write clearer, live happier, and enjoy my time with people I care about again.
No more sour puss Jenn!!! At least not until the next depressive wave hits. I leave this with a poem.
Lost in the mist of some unfortunate
dream, I hope
for an arm to touch
or even a reassuring glance.
No such luck
since the phone calls stop
when you forget
your happy nature
and find yourself passing
opportunities. Only reason
pulls me back to escape
from the surreal and haunting
crevice of the mind
that pushes everyone away. Leave
the dangerous fantasy
to rejoin a world
with peace, love, joy,
destruction,
hatred,
pain,
sorry--
what's the difference?
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