Today is my birthday. Yay, go me! I'm officially 41 years old. Old enough to give zero fucks about anything, right?
It's trying to snow outside right now. The weather is just gross and wet. I think that the winter weather is going to move in early this year. My real concern is that the roads tonight are going to be icy and I worry that Beloved is going to have a difficult drive home from work.
I'm still cheating on NaNoWriMo. I hit 50k yesterday. My story is a hot mess and I have no idea where it is going. I'm trying to follow grammar rules and keep things real. But this fanfiction turned fantasy novel project is frustrating me. I just want to finish it but new plot devices pop up as I am writing and I can't just end it. Well, I could just end it but then it would bother me that I haven't finished the story. I have notebooks full of incomplete stories that I just don't know how to bring them to the finish line.
It's like bad sex. You work at it, start to get some enjoyment, and then everything fades and you're left wanting. Or, in the case of some writing projects that are not complete, it's like horrifically bad sex. You work at it, start to get some enjoyment, and then a psychological landmine goes off and you're thrown into a complete panic attack. Trauma writing sucks some times. Especially when your c-ptsd is just on high alert because it's that time of year for you to have multiple trauma anniversaries waiting for you.
Have I mentioned how much I hate having c-ptsd? I really do hate it. If I could throw it into a volcano and sacrifice it to the old gods, I would. But I can't so I don't consider it an option. Still, I really hate having a sick brain.
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