I cannot rely on the hope that someone will help me or care enough to follow-up regularly with my changes.
Sure, the outside circumstances you're dealing with may be trash, but at least make sure you are okay and healthy.
This emptiness is torture.
I'm naive and honest enough to believe that you'll achieve whatever you want before you croak.
There’s always a way. There are always mistakes being made. But worry won’t save you.
Maybe my unstable beginnings of “real adulthood” got me in survival mode that I couldn’t let myself be consumed with creativity.
Relationships are relatively elusive.
These responses help me affirm if what I’m doing is even worthwhile.
Marketing aka just posting shit regularly has truly been a neglected something for me.
It’s my own fear that I’ll be pulled back down into the deepest depths of self-loathing abyss.