My Venting Heart

venting heart Gnarled Vines 1

Last night I went to a late night supermarket and spent my last $1.40 a one bread roll. Loaves were too expensive and I wanted something to put under my last two fried eggs, to make it more of a meal. Sounds pathetic, but in my fridge now sits a half a tub of margarine, a thimble full of milk and a half a jar of last years cured olives. I’ve not starved before but this time I’ll be on that crash diet I’ve always needed.

The cupboard is empty, no cans, no flours, sugar of anything edible, just empty containers and a few whole peppercorns in a jar. I’ve come to be very inventive and with minimal ingredients can cook just about anything. But there comes a time when there’s nothing left, no choices just acceptance.

My whole life has been successful on the whole, each enterprise a success in its own right, and I have risen to the heights of corporate business, run companies, had my own and utilized the many talents that God has afforded me. When depression finally caught up with me in ’99, my whole world changed and life in truth was observed from a very different perspective. With two separate depression disorders that disabled me for many years, unable to work, very low energy levels and highly sensitive to stress and stressful circumstances, I revisited my love of writing.

For seventeen years now I have written, millions of words published and sold in modest amounts, for without money one cannot afford the necessary promotion tools to see a work truly marketed and thus successful on a commercial level. Being on a disability pension, this never bothered me as money was not a factor in my writing. I reared my last child and now he is out with friends, living a good life. For me now, the lack of income is proving to be a problem. I have undertaken several ventures in earning money but they just haven’t panned out. Where I live doesn’t help as this state has the highest unemployment in the country, and being in my sixties doesn’t help.

This month the shit hits the fan, as my rolled over bills and debts have finally caught up with me and I find myself facing at least three companies that have warned me about late payment and threatened cut offs etc. The numbers don’t lie and even after I pay rent and try to keep a roof over my head, there will be no food for two weeks. In fact I have to get up at the crack of dawn tomorrow to go and buy my cat’s special food for his condition, before the bank start deducting all the monies owed and due to come out of my account.

Yes, I’m just venting, and this is obviously my path in life, but I am an artist, a sensitive soul who looks for love and beauty in everything. I have attained expertise in my chosen fields of creative endeavour and always have been highly regarded by my piers. I have always been generous with my knowledge and sharing my expertise, yet in all these last ten years or so, money seems to escape my life, regardless what I have attained. An interesting phenomena and one that plagues me, for the burden of debt and obligation effects me deeply, as I would never choose to let anyone down.

Many times I have considered suicide, but I could never do that to the few people I really love in life, never. And I know that to be counter productive in terms of life purpose and learning. You see I know too much and then hold that against myself. Aghhh!

As they say, things have a way of turning out, and yes whatever happens I’ll survive it, but I often wonder, even despite my depression, how I come to be poor and talented. Lol!

Tony DeLorger
Latest posts by Tony DeLorger (see all)

Tony DeLorger

Full time author, freelance writer, poet and blogger since 1999. Twenty one published works, past winner of 'Poet of the Year' on HubPages, 'Poem of the Year' on The Creative Exiles, writer for, Google+, videos on YouTube and book sales on website, Amazon and

6 thoughts on “My Venting Heart

  • May 2, 2016 at 9:14 PM

    Great story that reflects the life of many a talented writer. Sure hits home! Good read, Tony.

    Ahh! I meant to comment on that remarkable image you used. At first I thought it was a burnt corpse. After studying it, I can see what it really is. Good choice for the story.

  • May 2, 2016 at 10:43 PM

    Thanks Phyllis, glad you appreciated it and thanks for your continued support. Take care.

  • May 2, 2016 at 10:52 PM

    Um, bits of this could be biographical for me. Not the poverty part but the depression, suicidal, creative writer part. Most uncanny is the reference to ’99 and the depression catching up. Wow. Nice job.

  • May 21, 2016 at 6:30 PM

    This sounds autobiographical, Tony. I hope it’s just good fiction. BTW, with those few ingredients, one could make a killer egg sandwich!

  • May 22, 2016 at 4:18 AM

    Egg sandwich indeed Bill, glad you appreciated the work. Cheers!


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