You can only reblog this today or until the next Monday, June 19th, 2028.
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You ever just wake up from an incredibly graphic and realistic nightmare that was a pure psychological horror based on your own personal phobias and trauma and just roll over like “aw shit I got too hot last night I guess.” And then make toast like you didn’t just experience the nine circles of hell before 9 am
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to you, it's a shitty sentence. to some random bitch 500 miles away, it's a fire line that'll haunt them for the next 17 years.
you don't know how impactful your writing is because it's been in your brain for far too long now. you've stared at it for hours and repeated "this sucks" over and over again to the point that you killed your capacity to feel anything about your work.
but trust me, once you get your shit out there, someone's gonna go over that paragraph you hate and go "jesus fucking christ" and put the book down to have an existential crisis.
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well i may not be the prettiest person in the room or the coolest person in the room i think im at least the third funniest
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Mike: is struggling financially and mentally
Vanessa: *throws his prescription medicine*
Edit: it's not just about whether Mike needed the drugs (which he didn't, i understand), it's about the fact SHE LITTERED and most likely polluted the river too.
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