275 days.
I'm depressed, eternally so, with moments of manic happiness slapping me awake whereupon a dormant confidence rises within me.
But I am depressed and have been so for the better part of a decade. Given time to myself I rot and decay in a swarm of filth of my own creation, tucked into nostalgic material goods from my early twenties when I had no ambition and money to blow.
The starving artist in me, has always been in me and always shall be, was not content with a sleepy suburban doldrum. I hungered for suffering life experience surrendering to the chaos of the moment in order to find faith in the random consequences.
And so I have been proven to time after time that my heart guides my journey towards salvation. This begs the question, what will said salvation look like when it arrives?
I imagine it as a true inner calm and passionate sense of purpose and self, for I know after years of looking outside myself that it will never be external.
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