It’s been a year.

All things considered, I should probably update here more often seeing as my mind is always filled with ideas for story writing, but whatever.

The important detail here is that I started this wordpress account exactly one year ago. I didn’t even know that, I just logged on today by accident and checked my notifications on a whim. It’s weird the way things work.

The initial idea for this post would obviously be a recap of the year, my accomplishments and shit or whatever, but I have just now came to the decision that instead of doing that, I’m just going to rant about my life. But in a metaphorical way in a short story to commemorate my original premise for this blog.

The ways things work out sometimes is weird. Like the moment you realize that you’re not interested in fairytales any more.

If you’re me, you figured it out one day as you read about a man in his early 40s going through a midlife crisis and you were actually genuinely intrigued.

Gone were the days of impossible love stories, or ones about over throwing the patriarchy as a solo unit. No more highschool stereotypes and the oblivious parents trope. You’d journeyed into a world realer than you’d experienced before.

Men coping with divorces and the losses of loved ones. The struggles of providing for children while only remaining a human being. Women falling into despair over affairs.

Seemingly minor things suddenly sprung to life as you learned of the hardships of true adulthood at the hands of these authors. And these situations that would have bored you to death just a few months ago were actually interesting.

All these things seemed to happen at once and it made your own life seem mundane, you weren’t able to relate to these scenarios at the age of only 16.

The days turned from relentless work into trying to figure out how you could stay awake longer, work harder, achieve more, dream bigger. Your level of success dropped but your work ethic increased tremendously, it was so satisfying, that feeling of actually accomplishing something. You felt alive. You felt older. You felt invigorated.

The less hours you slept at night, the better; a measure of accomplishments. During the hours where the rest of reasonable society was achieving nothing, you were working relentlessly. Everything became a task to overcome.

You lived off coffee, slept less than 8 hours a week and threw yourself into your studies. No time for emotions, no time for fun, no time for romance.

Then it all came crashing down on you, the stupidity of all this work. Why would do this to yourself? you still had years of work ahead of you. what was the point of trying to over achieve so much?

You became stuck.

This is like the barest stuff happening in my brain. I am also involved in a big ol highschool love triangle that I’d rather not speak of, but if you’re reading this (and you know who you are) (or if you don’t know who you are) I’m sorry.

So that’s it you guys. I also am renewing my policy to post like once a month so that’s a thing I will be adding to my monthly to do list.

This is me,

signing off

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