Sigh. Why must communication be so hard. Yall ever just want to say exactly the way you feel and then realise that much emotion would be horrendously innapropriate for the situation and just end up saying generic shit and hoping they understand that its fear of losing them that makes me boring? Oh.

aren't thinking oh, why did they just use a smiley face? Ew. Ew icky ew. Not coming back here again. Like? No? Do not leave please I love and cherish your attention upon my work? And then I say that and its like is that creepy. Like I dont say that I just am silently anxious but you get it right.

Do other people see that and think oh, what a nice reply! And go ok with their days? Because I dont know. I dont want to ask that would be weird and pushy. Especially if theyre just strangers. Then theyll think Im insecure. But like?? What? Do I do? Genuinely what do I do then. How do I know they

Endless questions and no answers! Tell me God, if you live, if you have not abandoned us, why?! Why do I create? Why do I toil away as I do, for nothing? Is this how you feel? Always trying to find a fitting end, only to give up and make the people burn themselves to the ground?

What torment.

I can write all day. I can conjure ideas from the deepest recesses of the mind and forge them into beautifully shatp trinkets until my body is heavy with unseen piercings. Weighed down by work unfinished. Is this my fate? Endless toil for no gain? Or will I one day pin them up in a pattern I enjoy?

Or when the story is so disgustingly bloated with concepts and plotlines that I must cut away until it is pristine, bundle the scraps together and then what? Fanfiction of my own work? Make a world, a sandbox to play with endlessly? Is that what the people will want? An endless retelling of a story?

So I just? Created another series?? Set in a modern setting??? And then it became an entirely seperate thing that I have sunk 8 months into and am still working on. Just on ideas. Just figuring out every little twist and turn. At what point must I stop? When the ideas cease?

If you couldn't tell I cannot for the life of me finish a project. 180k words in the last year. Do you think any of that was actual fucking scenes that can be read?

Maybe like... 20k? Absurd. Disgusting. 160k words just ideas. What? No. Why? Why am I burdened so? Why. Literally why.