Life Script : An Antidepressant

It was not really alarming at first, since the change was subtle, but I did notice that my surroundings took on a different tone at certain times: the shadows of nightfall seemed more somber, my mornings were less buoyant, walks in the woods became less zestful, and there was a moment during my working hours in the late afternoon when a kind of panic and anxiety overtook me... 

quoted from Darkness Visible Book, William Styron.

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Fiction

She wishes she could go somewhere where no one could find her. But then she still comes out to live, talk when she has too, smile when she has too. She feels like an empty shell just floating around, like a skinned animal with deep wounds. She's willing to throw away everything. It's quite scary. Why do he wants to come in hell, she shouldn't care about it. That's what the devil inside is asking to do. Even she thought it was absurd, like those painful words she said, would it have been more painful?. She's in a bad for some reason, since while ago, she gets so angry.

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A Treasure Locked Up

Here i'm back in my own space of familiar surroundings and i have achieved a satisfied place in it, which fills me with a feeling of relief but also an underlying melancholy. I'm settling back into home life routine but i'm thankful there are still a few vacation days left. I'll let pointless busy work replace the idleness that lets my mind brood and hope it works out better than before. But sorry, i even said I'm feeling melancholy, that's weird. It's almost 3 am, I don't know what to write, random words, It's not easy to explain why I write, as I don’t know why. I wrote in one night without stopping,  I don’t want to stop when I’m feeling good. I let my fingers work. I try to write as fast as I can and move from one phrase to the next without thinking too much. I don’t know where I’m going but I’m really curious, I keep writing.

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A Cinnamon Latte

I can see myself easily becoming addicted to coffee, I'll likely need lots of booster to stay awake all the time I'll need to. I love writing and reading late into night, because no one is awake to bug me, all time is mine, and a cinnamon latte; the sweet, steamed milk foam and creamy flavor will always be my best friend. When I talk about coffee,  I'm sure there are tons of variations out there such as espresso, latte, americano, cappuccino, mocca, macchiato, etc. 

For me, the taste of coffee and cream is often the expression of a need for emotional comfort. Perhaps that is why I choose coffee as my example, coffee, the metaphor is similar to beverage that it provides both sensory pleasure during consumption. I learned from trying to push the metaphor further than I thought it could go. For instance, I'm physically addicted to coffee, I've made the choice to have it daily knowing that if I ever can't get it, or have some compelling reason to stop drinking it, I am in for a week of miserable headaches and joint pain. I can mitigate that a bit by gradually tapering off my consumption, but I can't avoid it all together. 

My body would mourn the loss, just as my mind would mourn the loss of a person I loved, the brownish cinnamon latte.

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