Yours sincerely

I’m crying as I write this. It’s nothing to do with the task or the content, it’s just because that’s what I do best as a depressive.

I could be an Olympic gold crier, or probably have a Guinness World Record for most snot produced. The fact that I’m crying is only relevant in terms of expressing how I feel pain and create. My mandate? Turn poison into medicine. Not that I’m poison, but the darkness