Stream of Consciousness

New Goodies & a Word on Why I Create

Okay, so I updated my Patreon…

You can now get a dragon egg, made by yours truly! I’ll make whatever color you want. These are two that I’ve made so far. You’ll get it in the mail on the second month of being my patron (it takes a while to make).

*BOOM* 

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I’m really proud of this, because… I’m a creator. And now if you become my patron, you can get something I created. I don’t know, I may be overreacting, but I’m just happy that I can MAKE and send you something.

It’s not the only thing you can get from me in the mail. In a different tier, I’ll write and mail to you a handwritten letter, every month. (But there’s only 10 of those available because I want to be able to give each letter my full attention each month.) I really love handwritten notes, which is what gave me the idea.

But I think the best bang for your buck is the one where you get access to my Patreon feed. There’s A LOT of extras there and it’s only $5 a month.

Okay, I’m done squeeing over my own stuff. LOL I’m just excited to have more to offer to possible patrons. I want people to feel like they’re getting something out of it. Plus I just want to show my appreciation. (I 100% do NOT offer sexual content though.)

 

So yeah. If you want exclusive content & to help this now jobless creator keep creating, please consider becoming my patron by clicking here: 

patreon.com/daphneshadows

 

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If being my patron isn’t something you can afford (which I TOTALLY understand), I want you to know I still love interacting with you, regardless. I do this because I love it and I want to spread stuff that makes people feel good.

Seriously. I create because it’s who I am. I enjoy it. I need it. I crave it. And I think most creators create because we just want to spread joy and hope and talk about all the ugliness and beauty in this world in a way that helps or challenges abusive behaviors or ways of thinking and celebrates the gorgeousness in us all. I just want to be who I am and help at the same time.

Stream of Consciousness

Why Depression is Startling

When you’re feeling it – it isn’t startling.

Nothing is startling.

 

Ha! I finally know and understand the definition of apathy.

Unrelated to apathy –

 

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I feel like some invisible disease has punctured my skin, slithered in, and has found a way to live inside me, parasitically changing me, holding me in a strange in-between, a madness, a muted, a roaring duality of pain and nothingness.

Trapping me from within, trying to squeeze the breath out of me.

It’s like a living entity is sitting on my chest; squeezing my heart in a fist of silver and hardness, harshness, imbuing it with sharpened flecks of poison; languishing in my gut, knotting me into coils and pressured twists; cracks breaking through the veneer.

And how am I still alive?

Am I?

If I barely swim to the surface of myself.

Sometimes this is all I have to give.

 

The madness has to come out sometime.

And how blessed am I? Writing gives me a way to breathe.

If only I’ll stop trying to control it. It isn’t always going to be pretty; it’s coming from within me. Sometimes giving the disease swarming inside me, leaching to my bones, and scratching at my soul with metallic nails – words, a voice, helps me.

Instead of leaching inwards, only swirling inside my rib cage, I can spill it onto the page and let it live there.

It may be a little worrisome to those who have never dealt with depression (depression and feeling sad are not the same thing, by the way). Perhaps it’s a little depressing to read for some.

But for me, it’s like expelling poison.

A saving grace.

That, is why I write.

How maddeningly beautiful, how simply poised I find it that both poison and the cure live inside me.

 

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Stream of Consciousness

Why I Write

As a writer, I know there is one question that will be asked of me time and time again: why do I write? I always found this question a little strange. It made me wonder why everyone wasn’t being questioned about why they do whatever it is that they do. But regardless, I finally have an answer. It popped into my head one day as I was mulling how I’d awoken over in my head.

 

March 6th, 2013 I woke up thinking the opening lines to the next draft of my current work in progress. I’d had it planned and plotted for a month and a half but hadn’t had the means to start writing yet. It was driving me insane. I got on Twitter March 5th (when I got a chance to go on the computer) and read tons of tweets. It was toxic; poisoned me. I then realized how badly I wanted to start writing. How not being able to write was driving me insane.

So it just happened that I woke up the next morning thinking about the beginning lines of said WIP. I figured in a couple hours to write. And I did. And it was awesome!

Why do I write? I believe I have three answers for this, each just as relevant and true as the other.

 

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