Shaking, Breaking, Aching

I can't write anymore. I used to rely on depression for inspiration, but lately, my life has been on the upturn, so desperation no longer comes to the literary rescue. I'm still trying, but I can't find the plots that will make things work out.

I've taken a more mature step to dealing with important issues. I've found it more rewarding to forward problems onto people who have degrees in dealing with them - I've emailed power companies, city councilors, and whoever else may have a greater influence on issues than I do.

As for life, I'm always a little nervous nowadays - no longer do I only have myself to take care of, but there's always another that I'm living for. I can't just neglect myself for the sake of others. Way back when, I knew this was going to be an issue, when I met that person who would care for my well-being in a way neither of us could have predicted. For a person who forsakes himself for the demands of others, it's odd to meet someone whose wish is that I attend to my own needs.

I'm grateful for it though. I've never felt this close or comfortable with anyone. It's like diving into a pool and finding it pleasantly warm, probably because someone has peed in it. <3