Wednesday, November 18, 2015


I'm literally scraping together whatever little belief I have left in myself.

I've been so through.  I've had a viral infection for about a week, and feel so weak.  I've been off work for a week, and felt nothing but guilt, despite the fact that I'm ill.  

I've also been disappointed.  I thought that I'd be graduating with my classmates for the Creative Writing course in July, but the majority of them will be graduating in February.  As usual, I remain the pariah.  

I give up, trying to be a part of anything. 

I can't make anymore mistakes now.  Every deadline and hand in has to be met on time, and with good quality work behind it.  

And what's worse, is that when it's over...I will have to find something to do with my life.  It's all too terrifying. More terrifying still, is that I am seriously considering giving up my job, and attempting a life as a "writer" whatever the fuck that is.  This goes against everything I know.  In the UK, you work.  You work till you're 70, and then you sit by the sunny window and smile at a job well done. You don't quit your job for pipe dreams.  

I worked so hard for my job.  For the status, the independence, the pay packet.  And I want to chuck it away for a notion of a better life.  

I've got to hang in there.  I've got to do this.  There's nowhere left to hide.  

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