The hardest thing about life after school is that no one cares about what you do, anymore.
I don’t even have a permanent job yet and I already see how little people care.
Oh, she’s making money biweekly? She’s good.
A lack of tests and papers and structure has made working on my own projects all the harder. I feel less obligated to care about myself when no one else seems to.
Of course, this is what I’ve always wanted.
And it’s the challenge, too. It’s why so many people have rooms crafted of half-finished projects and half-eaten meals. Tomorrow is always there, and no one cares more about you than yourself.
No one cares more about my novel than me, and if I feel okay putting it on the back burner then the rest of the world is definitely okay with it.
Gah. I’m just having a bad mental day. You know I am, because I only ever write on this blog anymore when I need a diary. Maybe that’s always what it was. It started out when I was starting therapy again, after all.
It’s not a bad thing, needing a diary.