Writing has always been a way for me to transcend through difficult times and sort out the confusion of my moods and thoughts before they swallow me.
It’s become a way to creatively disable the suicidal urges, self-destructive tendencies and throw a soggy band-aid on my diseased mind, so I can continue to drag my feet through life.
As the psychiatrist who involuntarily admitted me to the hospital told my wife, “he’s been sick for a long time.”
“A long time” translates into nearly 1,000 pages of previously unreleased grunge poetry, suicidal prose and short stories that – today – are being released, exposed and purged from my conscious.
Why has this writing never seen the day of light?
Because of its darkness.
Letting my depression speak would’ve exposed my struggle at a time when I wasn’t ready to bear the burden of admitting that I brawled with bloody knuckles against these ruthless mental demons.
Also, depression debilitates you with safeguards from exposure; a low self-esteem, embarrassment and crippling perfectionism.
Since the medications have soaked into my bloodstream, things have changed and I no longer fear the labels that I assumed come with the cold, naked honesty of what I wrote.
And, most importantly, my perfectionism has dulled and I see beauty in my own ugly.
So, today I purge all of the projects that I’ve been dragging along behind me in secret.
You can read them for free as a PDF on bjdraKe.com.
Or, you can purchase the eBook editions on Amazon.
Or, you can wait until October and purchase them in print (signed).
Regardless of whether or not anyone reads them, today marks a new beginning in my life.
The purge has begun and it won’t stop until all the sludge that weighs me down is scooped up and tossed aside, so that I can walk on clouds, again.
Before I go, let me issue a warning…
Breathe in only small whiffs of my work at a time, or you too might get swallowed.