Humbled and grateful

Humbled and grateful After having read so many responses to my request, each more eloquent than the last, I have come to the realization that I most certainly must up my game, sharpen my pencil, maybe even consult a thesaurus from time to time. I know full well that my indulgence in literary flowerism (like that) is anything but literature, more an exercise in playful ridiculousness (again I stray). I find it cathartic to play snatch and grab with adjectives, verbs and the run on sentences, sectioned off with a small army of commas, to me infinitely preferable to periods, those little dots that have fallen from their perches to rot upon the ground like apples dislodged from the branches of a tree. I play with words as a child might play with matches, the end result could very well be incendiary, dangerous, more likely resulting in a soggy book of fire sticks since my inner child is two and most assuredly would find his mouth with the pack. Enough about that. My attention has been directed to the disparaging fact that the majority of my posts are less than uplifting, some coming off as downright depressing. My life could be a helluva lot worse and I know it. Don't get me wrong, I don't embellish, I truly feel what I write, its just not ALL I feel. As sad as I am, I am not consumed with sadness. Remember that.