It's late and I sense the black dog approaches. The curse of my mind, an overwhelming feeling of what is the point, what have I done, a feeling of pointlessness that no amount of explanation overcomes. The misery that precedes the next burst of energy. I welcome and I loathe it.
I have a physical space that I can shut myself away from the world, I have geared my life to this, it's part of who I am, it's what makes me. It is not rational, it's some process of the mind that makes no obvious sense. A self inflicted misery with no reason or logic ...
... but in the end there is beauty in the process, a sort of re-finding of oneself, a resetting of one's views. It's a bizarre thing where almost the body just decides the mind needs to reset. You can't control it, this just happens. C'est la vie.
Alas, the end is always forgotten in the process. The black dog howls with its self loathing, self doubt and it intends to overwhelm. It always does with vengeance. No rationale can stop it.
Another fight old friend. Game on. You win as always.
Another fight old friend. Game on. You win as always.
