Okay, I'm not really in the mood, (not to mention the physically awkward typing lying down thing), to write much - and I'm certainly not going for anything remotely poetic, descriptive, story-telling, inspirational, or too engaging. I just noticed my first (and last) little journal entry was just a tiny bit.., well, it's fucking depressing as hell. I was (maybe still am, but I'll not go there), a morose, bitter, sullen, cynical, resentful creature at that point in my life and I really haven't "grown" much in those areas, honestly. However...(!), I am able to write, read, breath, shoot (photos rather than weapons), and think about pleasant things a bit more than I could there. A 3 year major depression doesn't vacate your cerebral resting place with any sense of urgency. I suppose it takes time. I don't know why I even mention this stuff, I don't mention any of this on Tumblr, Flickr, Instagram, etc. I guess I just know that few if any people read these - I'm new and I'm an unknown here. This is fine for me. No, really, I'm not just "saying that."
*** and that, my friends, is the little bit of prose what I was so upset over losing! lol