257/365 by +++ponyrock+++ on Flickr.
Complaining
I don’t think I’ve ever been so busy in my life.
I have so much memorizing and essay writing and reading. Sweet Jesus, the reading! I have to do 30 hours of reading for two of my classes (separately), not to mention all of the reading I have to do for English. And then added to that are the 23 hours of volunteer work I need to finish by May. My guidance councilor royally fucked me over by jamming all of my heavy subjects into the last semester, so that I have to do it along with a bunch of graduation and university shit.
Thank God for writer’s craft in first semester or I wouldn’t have anything for the contests I’m doing.
Wow that story was fucking heartwrenching. Why don't you write something happy?
AnonymousI’m going to assume that’s a compliment.
I thought the story was happy… At least in the end. The point wasn’t really to depress. I was trying to contrast life and death, show the family’s capacity to handle grief and immense stress, and express the infinity of existence (which I’ll admit is a bit of an overdone trope). I don’t think any story I’ve written has been purely happy. Someone is always suffering in some way because anything else is boring.
I have to go through that story again and it’s stressing me out because it’s for a big contest that I really want to win, but at the same time I’m tired and my house is starting to make weird noises.
Ugh. Stupid sensitive writer girl problems.
