resting with peace

i'm always grateful for mornings i wake up without depression weighing on me. but it's also the period of my cyclical psyche where my writing feels less soulful. it doesn't feel like there's a conflict wanting to be resolved.

that's the magic of it really. i write to resolve an inner issue.

i sit with the feeling. i type my thoughts. i somehow build a narrative with the next word, sentence or paragraph unplanned. it falls into place, messily built, but assembled intuitively with purpose. i don't believe it makes any problem more solved, but it definitely makes it easier to believe that if i can construct order in this debilitating chaos, then i have a fighting chance to have control over my own life.

and that belief in agency is the first step to a proper solution.

it's just square one though. once i publish my writing, i have to step into the real world and follow through with concrete actions. that's the hard part. you can't just sit in one corner occupied with your own thoughts like you would with writing. you need to face people you're avoiding, you need to have difficult conversations, you need to let go of things you cling onto. sometimes it's easier to let things stay the same, but easy isn't always the right thing.

it's cliche, because it's positive. oftentimes, correctness is universal. so it means i won't be the first to say it. authentic as my voice is right now, it's not unique. but my heart is light for the meantime. and if it doesn't make for an engaging read, then it's okay.

i will allocate this positive energy to other art forms.

like my capacity to craft love.