I'm so angry at myself for all the long-lasting damage that my procrastination has caused.
Ten years, ten whole fucking years I've been writing and I haven't finished one single novel. I know I have talent, people tell me I have bucketloads of potential and they've always loved my writing, but I just can't get something out there. How pathetic is that? And I've hurt others along the way, telling them I'm too busy writing to go out or talk...when in reality just burning time with mindless trash.
The high you get from eschewing your daily goals is so fucking addictive and dangerous. And it's especially dangerous when your goals demand constant, focused attention.
I'm finally starting to get some help very recently and it's been doing wonders, but if you find yourself slacking off a bit, STOP. RE-EVALUATE YOUR LIFE. MAKE RADICAL CHANGES NOW. DO NOT, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, GET TRAPPED INTO THE SWIRLING VORTEX OF HELL THAT IS CHRONIC PROCRASTINATION. Especially if things have always come easy for you, like they have for me. You'll just end up cynical, bitter, alone, and depressed and you'll just be spinning your wheels for decades with absolutely nothing to show for it.
Life is about giving back and helping others. How the fuck can you help others if you're staring at a computer screen for 12 hours a day, wasting your short life on frivolous bullshit?
Having a solid work ethic is absolutely paramount to a good life. That's the one lesson I've learned in all my years on this planet. I may be decades late to the party, but I'm going to try my hardest to salvage the remnants of my broken existence.
April 30th, 2011 - July 12th, 2018