WRITING IS MY DRUG

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Something that makes you feel better when you just think about doing it.  Something that alters reality.  Something that takes you away from all the other bullshit that’s going on in your life.  Plus, it’s free, and the only side-effect you feel is a sense of accomplishment.  Why not?  Indeed, why the hell not?

Writing is my drug.  Unfortunately, I’m not addicted to it enough.  I fall back on other things too easily: nicotine, caffeine, sugar, diphenhydramine, and self loathing.  What’s wrong with me?  I’m human.  I write for the right reasons when I’m writing, but I don’t endeavor to write when I’m not writing for the wrong reasons.

Fear, frustration, doubt, and sloth; those are my deadly sins.  The only cure?  Take drugs.  Take the one drug I know will eventually alleviate them all; just fucking write!

Who cares what it’s about, if it’s a part of something larger, or if it means any-fucking-thing at all.  I gotta write, and I gotta do it right now.  Now, I’m going to do it right now.  There, I’m doing it, and it feels goooooood!

I could lock myself up thinking about all the stuff that locks me up by thinking about it, or I could just fucking write.

What’s the worst that could happen?  I could die penniless and alone, having wasted my life on a fruitless, delusional endeavor that was never meant to be.  Good, I don’t like fruit anyway.  Well, maybe pears, and raspberries, and strawberries, and bananas.  Okay, I like fruit.  I like it a lot.  I should eat more fruit, and write more.

Where am I going with this?  Shut up.  Thanks for asking.  I’m happy when I’m writing.  Really freaking happy.  I wish I could earn a living doing it.  So, I have to make sure I can earn a living until I can earn a living writing.  Writing gives me hope, keeps me sane, and helps me make sense out of the world.  Have I mentioned that before?  Is it rhetorical?

Knowing the solution is simple, solving the problem is a little more difficult.  Focus!  Prioritize!  Balance!  Sacrifice!  Make the hard choices!  Be fearless!  Get off my fat ass as get my lazy, sausage fingers a-typin’!  Fine!

Until next time, don’t bother me.  I under the influence of a book.

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