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I'm a 46 year old male who is HCV+ and suffering from depression, heightened by the drugs I must take to try and cure this illness.







I write these entries to try and exorcise some of my demons who seem to take endless pleasure tormenting me with every fight. The harder I struggle, the more ground I lose.

But I'll never give up, as much of a mockery that must seem. I don't know what it takes to quiet the storm, to still the waters. There's a peace somewhere, and I'll find it.


For those of you off whom demons also feed, tell me of your struggles. Maybe some will bring a candle into the room, or as I'd prefer, a sword.

I need a weapon, but what is it?

email14




'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"

He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought--
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.

And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!

One two! One two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.

"And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!"
He chortled in his joy.

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

-Lewis Carrol

"The Jabberwocky"






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