Hello, again.

It’s interesting what a deep depression can do to a person. It’s not a question of whether I can write. I know I can write. Some of my best writing (in my opinion, obviously) has been when I was wallowing so low down that I didn’t give a shit until later when I happened to stumble on it. Obviously there wasn’t a large quantity of good writing from those times. I mean, I’d like to say that I want to preserve that piece of depression a little maybe just to understand when I’m back there, but for now I’ll just alter it.

And now that I’ve stopped worrying so much everything is fresh again. I was down low for so long that I’d forgotten what it meant to work hard on something. I’d forgotten that spending time with a friend wasn’t just to talk about how your life had gone to shit over beers. A lot of beers.

Every experience comes down to re-living a past one now. Or else, it gets harder to create a new one without referencing something from your past. This new experience can be a more vivid and wonderful creature.

After this past winter, I wanted to be in control of myself again. But I found instead I was trying to conduct or direct my relationships even though I know everything is out of my control except for my own life. I needed patience. One of the most frustrating and paradoxical things I’ve learned: patience takes practice.

So, try to be patient, Jessica. 

Pack your books around. Casually leave out the part where you don’t read them. Collect these precious bundled papers. Build memories around them when you do read them. The most important book to this day is the one you were actually reading when your Grandpa died. It was also about death, and poetry, and the fleeting.

I've been reading the blogs of friends, and I appreciate them so much that I had to start mine again. Not for the sake of appreciation, just for the chance at it. If Stephanie Couey can write a post about her relationship to food that doesn't align exactly to mine, and still resonates at the very center of me; I believe that I can share my own experience with others and maybe we'll have something to talk about after.

I’m so thankful for everyone that has been around for me the past 6 months. You saved my life. Now I’m going to allow the writing back in so it can keep me safe.

As a re-dedication to my writing, updated blog. (Now in color!) I'm also not restricting myself to poetry. Or anything really. This is my drawing board for poetry, whether that means a thought I'm having, or a poem I can't help but share, or a fucking picture of a fortune cookie.

So, mission statement: over. Next: a poem.