While I was alone last night, a Thursday, I was tempted to drink an early Devil’s Cup. But it was not yet Friday, so I stopped myself and drank more water. (As I should.)
And then, I heard a whisper within.
“Dewey, you have been holding off on the decision for days.”
I didn’t avoid the whisper, my Inner Dewey. I replied to him.
“I know, I know.”
Continue reading XXXVIII: Making the DecisionSo, what can I write here under 10 minutes?
I have a few posts lined up, but after a certain discouraging conversation about my mental health from yesterday (while I was trying a different version of my favorite affogato, mind you), I don’t feel like posting them for now. In fact, today, I feel too sad to write, exercise, or even work. (But I had to finish the latter because obviously it’s work.)
Will I be better or at least get over it by this weekend? I really don’t know. Good luck to me, perhaps.
Ω
Published on March 12, 2025 at 10:54pm. Minor edits were made at 10:57pm.
The Diary of The Deranged Writer 