I’m sorry — you thought my art was about you?
LEO: The minute you entered their heart, it turned raw, you became the warrior’s weakness because you now reside in their den, the beating heart of a lion, the fire source that drives them.
I’m a writer
I have a pen in my hand
I’m in the air
And I don’t want to land
“Don’t lament so much about how your career is going to turn out. You don’t have a career. You have a life. Do the work. Keep the faith. Be true blue. You are a writer because you write. Keep writing and quit your bitching. Your book has a birthday. You don’t know what it is yet.”
It’s funny how I can write 140-character quips all day and not get any ideas for something career-changing. I rushed my workload just to get a long writing break and all I did was play Candy Crush and binge-watch some shows. And they say being a freelance writer is easy.
Those who fundamentally change or improve on pre-existing ideas are remembered by history not as thieves, but as geniuses.
I stress about things that wouldn’t matter to most people. I just wish I could sleep without fear of waking up from a panic attack or nightmares, I wish I didn’t always feel so depressed, I wish I didn’t always feel so tired.
We are delicate, little flowers. We are dramatic, and frantic, and we need a big, strong man to tell us it is all okay. Enter our physicians.
They told me it was a hobby, not a job. That I’d never get paid for writing. That I should go back and get a proper job with a pension plan and dental and stop trying to get paid for something I enjoyed doing.
We shared a passionate and heart-racing kiss in the stairwell. After that kiss, everything escalated at an alarming rate.