libberillious

What is it about misery that so stokes the fires of creation? Is it that dim hope that by means of pulling demons from your skull, that you might fill the gaping, ever sucking void in your chest?
It would appear, from the heartburn and insomnia, that an old stuck writing project has unblocked itself. I wish that hugs consoled me. wanting to be alone when I'm depressed makes me feel inhuman. at least this is a difficult headspace for me to maintain. until then I have a surplus of tea and cat that shits pure evil.