Waiting for Sunset (4)

Now I am about to finish the final draft of a book of poetry. It took a few days before I started feeling better again. I asked my friends to look and comment. Sometimes I wonder if my large myomas have started shrinking. I will become insane without it.

But looking at the book again, it is a very important personal project. My breasts don't hurt as much anymore. It's a collection of forty-five poems that I wrote over five months. I've become even thinner over the past several weeks. I had an unbelievably stressful time finishing the first draft.

I was standing rather precariously, tip-toed, on rocks on the sea floor. But it is a very important book for me and I should be thoughtful about it. Very few people seem to consider these feelings. I feel much better.

I try to control my depression without it. That brightened me considerably. Now I am dependent on my husband's pension. I very much like to do that too. I have no control over my own life. It was fun for a while. I get ignored sometimes. For a moment I was terrified that a strong wave would tip me over. Like what Imeng may have done for me.