Had a writing class and I got my first edit back with red ink all over the place and I went home and talked to my stuffed animals about how everyone was just jealous of how amaze-balls I am and that's why my life is such a deep mutherfucking abyss.
"YOU GUYS DON'T KNOW HOW TO WRITE. MY MOM THINKS I'M GREAT. EVERYONE LOVES ME."
Guys I'm glad I'm not planning on a career in writing because I would have so many meltdowns I would just be a puddle 24/7.
Thinking of rebooting a few of my old stories, but it's always nice and easy to say things like that.
"I'm gonna re-write this."
"I'm gonna organize my desk."
"I can totally change the oil on my car on my own."
"Yeah I'm gonna start studying for finals two months in advance. I'll be so prepared."
No, but really FFFFFFFFFFF.
Nobody appreciates my efforts to pretend like I'm doing something.
I've been going through some really hard times lately, and I think it's affecting me and I think I might need to get help, but at the same time I think if I give it some time it will go away. I just don't know. It's not even something that I can talk to my family about. I don't know. Anyway, doesn't matter, I'll be fine. One foot in front of the other.
Peace out hommies.
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