Creative Minds
Stopping Myself From Stopping Myself
Sometimes depression speaks to me through resounding voices that ask me what the hell am I doing all this for. Then, I find myself consumed with feeling absurd, that perhaps stringing words together is nothing more than a waste of time. The writer inside yearns for continuous approval, and removing denial from the equation exposes my weakness, that I am too delicate and too easily broken. Read the rest of this entry »
Writing With Hope 