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It takes so much effort to appear effortless.
get on board with my pessimism or get out.
That’s the burden of being a writer, truly. We spend so much time in our heads, we rarely experience the world outside of it. Not in the same way other people do.
It’s such a strange thing. On the one hand, I’m freaking out and terrified about what’s happening, but on the other, nothing is actually happening, and I don’t want to cause a scene or more embarrassment to myself by not complying.
