Coffee. Yoga. A hard struggle against depression again.
It’s one thing to face the monster you know, it’s another to face the actions of those you thought you could trust. I wish I could say that my observations are too deeply flawed because I know I’m in a depressive pit again, but experience has taught me certain lessons the hard way.
If you don’t want to get stung, don’t carry the scorpion with your bare hands.
No amount of firing the sigil explicitly for “good cheer” would lift my mood from the bottom of my shoe. I was further reminded why I coded the desires I did and barely made it through the day.
But I made it.
And that’s what counts, right?
One foot in front of the other, even when you aren’t sure there is something worth walking towards. One act of magic at least once a day, even when you aren’t sure that you’re not just playing pretend with a serious face.
It is a pretty sigil, though.
It makes me smile to look upon it.
And I’ll take any reason to defy the pit as an excuse to keep going.
Oh, hey. I’m smiling. I guess magic works after all.