So I live with monsters.  Not literally, of course.  Although they sure seem quite real sometimes.  My monsters live inside me and cause all sorts of pain and sadness.  Okay, I'm really talking about depression.  It seems I got the short end of the stick when it comes to this particular genetic flaw.  Living with it every day can seem like living through the Lone Survivor movie I just saw a couple months ago.  So, yeah, I know how that man feels in some very small ways. 

Not that I'm saying I know what war is like.  I don't, of course.  I'm one of the lucky ones and have never had to go to war in anyway, unless he count when my kids were toddlers and still in diapers.  All I can say is yuck and I'm glad they're teenagers now.  What I'm saying is that having depression feels like what I imagine going to war must be like.

When a soldier is in the thick of the battle he/she does things that they would never think about doing in their every day lives.  Obviously.  Well, I do and say things I normally wouldn't when my brain is fighting with all those monsters.

I prefer to think of my monsters as tiny fairies with sharp teeth.  Pretty but deadly, like sitting through a Disney movie.  These monsters are the reason I write.  Making them something more than what they really are helps tame them somehow.  It's why I write. 


Hayley said…
Hi April!! Lurves you girl!
April Kelley said…
Hi! Lurves you too :-)

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