Redefining myself

I write trying to find a medicine for my broken soul ... but
not even after 143 books ... i can't really say that ... i've
found the answers ... I've needed so much.
Writing ... and keep writing ... even if actually ... i feel that i am not into the right direction.
And still ... i continue.
I feel sad.
Maybe ... i am already depressed.
But ... what i am actually saying ... as someone repeatedly told me this ... "the opposite of depression is not joy, but expression.
So ... create, create, create.
It's the soul's medicine."
And ... at least for me ... this medicine is ... writing ... as a process of self therapy.
One done ... in continuous form.
Well ... it's not that it doesn't work ... but for sure i am still too far away of the real life i should have.
Still being ... confused.
Annoyed.
Frustrated.
But ... also mad.
The funny thing is that ... the process itself is a way of
expressing my dark side ... somehow beginning to realise why my life looks the way it looks.
And ... it's not really ... weird or illogical ... that i am
unhappy.
Probably like all of you guys ... consuming so much ...
motivation.