#words cannot describe how desperately i need my writing to keep me afloat going forward....
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life stopped feeling real the moment i went into surgery at the end of october.
it's like surgically remove a whole system that's been slowly killing me since i was 9yo → election → brain fog so extreme i LITERALLY no longer i feel like i'm inhabiting a human body → new year → start writing 40k words for a submission deadline → inauguration → KEEP WRITING 4K WORDS A DAY → constant barrage of news straight out of a dystopian novel 90% of which target me specifically → KEEP FUCKIGN WRITING → beloved family cat passes → KEPEP FUCKNG WRITING → ".... when the fuck was the last time i washed my hair what od you mean we're a week away from march"
#i just washed my hair and my arms feel so goddamn fuckign heavy#gods i am so unfathomably tired you guys#there's also the weight of publication not being guarantee which is perfectly fine but oh man i could really REALLY use SOME form of income#words cannot describe how desperately i need my writing to keep me afloat going forward....#which. yknow. once i've wrapped this up i'm going back to my INITIAL monthly self-pubs of the smutty variety plan.#i just masochistically continue to chase the high of tradpub (or indie in this case).
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