too much of a good thing

I used to think I needed to write out my issues to try to find some resolution. And yet when I was at my most prolific, I was feeling probably my lowest. I composed every negative thought, allowed bitterness, sorrow and self depreciation to weave themselves into the most beautiful & dark poetry. I thought it was cathartic; that by putting it down, maybe I was getting it out of me. I’m not sure it works that way. I wallowed in the darkness, and rather than walking away, I just stayed there. Sometimes it feels good to feel sorry for yourself, no?
I’m a little sad I don’t write the way I used to. I don’t have to anymore. Did I grow out of it? Did I lose it? I don’t know. I didn’t write it down… I just lived it.

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