There is a common misconception that writers are pathetic, absurd creatures. We are depressed, unkempt, always on the verge of bankruptcy, and often toxic to be around.
I was lucky enough to be blessed with all these qualities.
But writers are not uniquely haunted by such demons, nor is creativity a cause for depression.
Depression finds the writer long before any ink touches paper, and rests its claws deep within the victims’ soul before they have a chance to reconsider their degree in English literature.
But still we write, because writing is the cure. Writing is the only thing that has ever kept me sane, and I don’t care what my doctor says, typing on my laptop lopsidedly in bed is a lot more soothing than running at the gym.