I used to think I could only write when I was depressed.

Now I know it’s just that I can only write well when I’m depressed. 

too

Anything becomes painful if you have too little or too much.

Fasting and hunger, desire and destruction.

A scratch.

A loving emotion.

Any drug or intoxicant, tonic or medicine.

Too little eye contact.

Too much rain.

Comfort is the feeling of control.

We place ourselves in positions we feel to be just the right measure.

Then.

We get bored.

And tell ourselves it’s sadness.

Woefully we cut ourselves up inside.

Because life with too much comfort and not enough pain is painful too.