I know that nobody is going to read this.
It's a fact; if I don't click on the post myself, that little counter will remain at 0.
That makes this entirely redundant, but I need to vent and this is my little wasteland so I will yell at the tumbleweeds and maybe I will feel OK again after that. Sometimes I love my work. I don't think I am some sort of literary genius, but I enjoy what I do and I think that there are some others who do, too.
Right now, I don't feel like that. I feel like a failure. There are a thousand reasons for that, and I can't shake any of them.
I have been publishing my work on the same platform for three years and I have 367 followers on my account. I am grateful to every single one of them, but it is objectively terrible, particularly when I have over 5000 profile views. Most people who have been around as long as I have are at a point where they have several thousand followers on their account.
I know that I have achieved more than many people have, but I am never going to write anything that doesn't disappoint or bore the vast majority of people who read it, and I have tried so many times to produce something that is marketable but I can't do it. It just ended up with me writing stupid books about Ancient Rome, and a medical student from rural Saxony. In all honesty I normally don't give a fuck. I like my books, for the most part, and I don't really care if other people think I should do things differently. But today it has been getting to me.
My friend died a year ago tomorrow. I've been counting down the months, weeks, and now hours until this anniversary, and I have thought about him every day. I know that outside of my books I have achieved a lot over the past year, but every milestone I hit makes me wish he was still here and for the past few days there has been this crushing weight on my chest that just won't go away. It has solidified around these particular insecurities, and I am well aware that I am just projecting my feelings onto this situation, but I need to throw my feelings into the world.
I suck, I write boring garbage, my characters are not well developed, my writing is uninspiring, I would definitely not get any sort of contract if I was starting today, and I miss my friend more than words can say.
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