I am this close [ ] to giving up.

To measure the space of what I have left could break me or keep me afloat. That space could be a millimeter of patience, or enough to keep me going until I die.

I am being cryptic.

In simpler words, I received two rejections today. One of me; one of my novel. A double whammy for the weekend.

I don’t think it’s gonna happen for me. This is reality now, not the fantasy world I so desperately want to live in.

I live here. I am not getting out of here. This is the life I am living, and it is a normal one, on the ground, with everyone else.

There is nothing wrong with that. There is nothing wrong.

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