It’s not about anything and it’s about absolutely everything. The scribbles, I mean. They’re there and they are exactly what they are. And that’s more than fine. But I cannot approach it from any sort of a career standpoint until all is well and good and I can attack it with both ease and hard work in equal measurement. That’s what it’s always been building up to for me. A career. A loud and proud one which will bring me to the top of the ladder in the literary scheme of things, eventually. Been sitting on that for a long, long time. Been sitting on damn near pretty much everything, really. But it never stopped- never stopped alarming my mind, this unstoppable necessity to create something almost damn near physical for the reader with the words. And even if I already have, only I can actually know just what I’ve got in the vault regarding amount of back-log, etc. Honestly? On a personal level it’s kinda frightening what could happen with it. Good frightening! Great frightening. Absolutely ******* outrageously good frightening. I live it one million percent. Every second of everyday and that’s it, really. It’s like a goddamn stage set to me… the outside world 🤷‍♂️Yeah I definitely have an odd mother ****** of a mind. It might be wired but definitely not wrong. It was never wrong. Just interrupted. It cannot be interrupted anymore cos that last couple of decades of chapters was ocd-enhanced scribbles, so yeah, I did get something from it. Too much to be bitter, actually, thank Christ 😅 But what it takes exactly? Now THAT would make The Aviator movie with Leo Di Caprio seem like a… fairy garden of the mind for his character Howard Hughes’s mind in comparison.

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