Nearly tore my printer to shreds today while trying to print my work thus far. Why is it you only run out of ink when you’re desperate to print something?
I’d like to burn something. I naturally tend towards pyromania, but I don’t mean literally today. I think the world is getting to me in my isolation. Pretty soon I’ll be unfit for public and all twitchy around strangers.
Yesterday I told my neighbor, upon meeting her for the first time, that she annoys me. What is wrong with me?
I have come to the conclusion that what I have to say is utterly irrelevant. I might as well be a crazy old man talking to himself on the street. Promote yourself? Start a blog? Isn’t it obvious that I have no idea what I’m talking about?
I don’t care. You don’t care. “I’ve written 2,000 words today, go me!” Isn’t it obvious this is just another marketable ruse? Sell yourself out.
Why are you still reading this?