Um so I wrote a novel? I wrote a novel from the summer of 2012 to the summer of 2013. I wrote a novel when my mental health was at it's lowest. It's lowest if you disregard, um right now which is going ding! ding! High score! There are many circles to hell and rock bottom is a lie. Things can always get worse. I am optimistic about that.
Christ the Wolf was the best-worst thing I've done. The best in the sense that it's so fucking good and writing it was the happiest I've ever been (even though I was extremely fragile at the time I was y'kno...happy). Waking up in the morning and feeling like I was doing something good, felt good. I literally did this whole look-into-the-garden-jump-for joy-thank-you-god-while-the-kettle-boils thing.
Worst in the sense that whilst I think this project at least merits a blog post, grammatical mistakes and all (I should really proofread this shit before i hit publish) it's um not going to progress beyond that.
People say that giving up after rejection is weak, but there's people and there's persons, and I personally disagree, there is only so much I can deal with y'kno? I'm tired.
Tho um maybe if you email me, I might show the manuscript? I don' know. (Idk).
Don't know. Don't care.
I don't really care about anything anymore.
(I would like to sleep forever).