Apparently we're all depressed. I know I am, and telling a happy story requires so much more effort when you've forgotten just what happiness feels like. There's no hope, is there? We don't see a brighter or better future. Everything's bleak and awful.
I don't see a victory. No happy ending. We won't win.
So I can't write the novel I've been meaning to, or the poem, or the story. It'll just be another of those depressing New Yorker type pieces. I refuse to perpetuate misery.
Hah yeah I kinda get where you're coming from. But you totally can write. You have an eloquence that makes me angry sometimes because it's just so freaking good.
ReplyDeleteYou don't have to perpetuate the misery if you can just find a reason to hope, darlin'.