And half of the year whizzed by just. like. that.
It’s funny how I stopped writing here because I got a job as a ‘writer’.
Last weekend was one of the lamest weekends (save for meeting up with Leyn) I’ve had in years. I spent two days tucked inside the blanket, delaying laundry tasks, and figuring out the best hot spot for wi-fi in my tiny apartment. There were so many things to do–I could finish Palahniuk, write my exclusives, sort out work emails, respond to people, etcetera–but I did what I do best: slack the fuck up.
An idea also struck me last weekend. It’s still a fetus idea–fatal and fragile in all aspects–but I plan to make something out of it. Scanning through old folders in my computer, I realized I spent most of the ‘writing’ hours on fragments, introduction, and unfinished letters. Here are some excerpts from letters that were never sent:
While I saw it coming, I’d have to say that everything went quite abrupt. Not that it surprised me; but I just think something was off with the way DMG let me go.
But first let me explain my side on that “last straw.”
When I said I had feelings I meant I was in love with you; when I said I wanted to you to let me go, it meant I wanted you to give me a reason to stay. When I said I wanted to burn bridges, it meant getting over you will take a really long time and there’ll be nights I’d spend crying.