I haven't written in a while, and it really throws me off.
I recently started back in the work force, in a senior care center, and I get up at 4am now which has become a sense of misery for me. I no longer keep the hours I did during the whole pandemic, and my descent into madness which fueled my writing.
Long story short, writing is suffering because I'm not suffering. My therapists would say how unhealthy that is, but I miss the passion I felt when had it in me.
Don't give up on me folks, I haven't abandoned you. Just mentally resting I believe. One love my loves...
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