In a love / hate relationship with this story. It tugs at me. I shove it away and it crawls back in, sneaking through the cracks. I try to ignore it but it screams. I love it achingly and intensely but it overwhelms me. Can't sleep because it talks to me constantly, but when it … Continue reading Portrait of the Artist Mid-Revision
I want my writing to fuck me up
I'm not writing to fix myself, I'm writing to fuck myself up.