Nothing Good Comes Out Of Depression.

I Compare Myself With My Former Self, Not With Others. Not Only That, I Tend To Compare My Current Self With The Best I Have Been, Which Is When I Have Been Midly Manic. When I Am My Present "normal" Self, I Am Far Removed From When I Have Been My Liveliest, Most Productive, Most Intense, Most Outgoing And Effervescent. In Sort, For Myself, I Am A Hard Act To Follow.

But, With Time, One Has Encountered Many Of The Monsters, And One Is Increasingly Less Terrified Of Those Still To Be Met.

I Had Been Simply Treating Water, Settling On Surviving And Avoiding Pain Rather Than Being Actively Involved In Seeking Out Life.

I Think That One Of The Many Advantages Of Death Accruing Over A Long Period Of Time Is That You Do Have Time To Meet A Lot Of Other People Who Are Going Through Similar Situations And One Of The Great Delights Of Our Life Actually Was Sitting Around In Labs Waiting For The Results Of Tests And Talking To Other People Who Were Waiting To Find Out Whether Their Cancer Numbers Were Going In The Right Direction Or Not.

I Think Wanting To Write Is A Fundamental Sign Of Disease And Discomfort. I Don't Think People Who Are Comfortable Want To Write.