I wanted to let it be known, the chapter that has been giving me an endless amount of grief fell victim to my fingers today. I choked the fucking life out of it with my bare hands. I clacked at the keyboard like each tip of my digits was its own tiny fist bearing its own bastard sword. And the beast fell.
I was tempted not to write at all today or to take a stab at one of the blog ideas I've been scribbling notes for in my notebook. I have company over and they are asleep. I was jolted awake by habit or something greater near the same ungodly hour I usually do my writing and I was so afraid that they would come downstairs and see me raw and mangled, defeated again by the chapter that has bested me every day for more than a month. I was afraid that if they had come downstairs and I had just spent the last hour staring at a blank screen that I couldn't take it. I'd be a wreck and inconsolable. No mood for company. No pleasure to be around.
But even though many disagree, this is why I don't want to be on medication. Why I sparingly use the emergency prescribed anxiety meds I've been given. It takes a certain amount of friction to make a fire, and today, baby, I'm on fire.
Just thought you'd like to know that I am fucking today up like a car crash. So if you see me coming and have anything but high fives on the mind, you better beware. I have already killed today and I won't hesitate to do it again!