Self-actualization isn't all it's cracked up to be. I would know. I had the realization recently that I can call myself a writer now. I've been making sentencey, paragraphy stuff consistently for some time now in several capacities. It's a dream coming true. And it feels... just like being unemployed and living in my parents' attic.
Make no mistake, I am not a paid writer. But a writer nonetheless! Nobody can take that away from me! This blog has over 70 posts! I have a complete rough draft of a novel! I have zero income!
I've said before that grief often feels like living in a dream, and then I correct myself and say nightmare. For once, I had a thought that maybe the dream's worth a try.
I do the writing thingy with wordity. It's not much, but it's a dream accomplished for me. Everything from here on out is just gravy. Wouldn't it be wild if I got paid for writing? That'd be like, another dream come true! Double dream come true! And then my parents would get their dream: their attic space back.
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