F@#$ It – I’ll Never Be A Noted Author

no writing todayInstead of writing, I spent Saturday afternoon wine-ing. Still have a few hours to finish the bottle. 

It seems apropos to get drunk off of a wine from the region of the country that represents my biggest mistake. The one I knew I was making. The one I let everyone talk me into continuing on when I knew it was wrong. But I listened to others, and not me, and twenty five years later – I am still suffering from the mistake. 

As far as my dream of being a noted author. It is time to wake-up.

What is the point of writing another sentence?

No matter how many stories I have written, I am a failure as an author, as I have been a failure at everything else.

Life remains an inescapable hole.

And I remain a lonely, lost loser.

Sick of my fucking life.

Stuck in this trap. 




Fuck it!

4 thoughts on “F@#$ It – I’ll Never Be A Noted Author

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