Mike bleeds ink. When his literary wounds are open, his switch is on and you don't fuck with that.
When he writes, it is an act of beauty and creation, pulling intangible thoughts from the air and positioning them, organizing them, creating a tapestry of love, fear, joy, and anger. This simple act of writing is more beautiful than any of the songs
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Some of this was in an entry from a couple months ago...right? I like how you refined it.
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although like, i used to get anxiety in the summer because of the heat. so like, i'd be on the bus all day with the AC, which was amazing, but if i had to get off the vehicle for any reason i'd start to panic knowing i couldn't get back into the AC if >>I<< wanted to. like knowing i had no control over having cool air if i wanted it, when i wanted it, kind of made me freak out. very strange.
i combined two previous unfinished entries and then wrote five new paragraphs of what the hell ever to complete this article/chapter/memory thing. not sure what i was trying to get out here, now that i read this again. stream of conscience bullshit.
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how are you doing with the holiday seasons around anyway? do you get like, seasonal affective disorder or whatever it's called? my anxiety has been through the roof lately and it's making me sketchy as hell with the people around me.
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we do christmas and i kinda sorta get into the spirit of it for her sake/because of her but. it just takes a few little things for me to be like 'fuck this'.
the dino thing... i just updated on it so you'll see that, but yeah it does stress me out BIG TIME and it stresses me out even more that everyone thinks i am overreacting. like no shit, that's what i do.
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<3
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