Hollering into the void
It's a rough day. I'm supposed to be working on my novel, or some other form of fiction, and I'm just torn between an existential crisis and a pity party. There's nothing I can say that matters to anyone - even begging for feedback gets me radio silence, so I can't even elicit negative feelings towards my writing. I thought getting bad feedback would be the worst thing, but it turns out, getting absolutely nothing is even worse. I'm not sure why I even write, today. I like telling stories, but an important part of telling the story is the audience, and I don't have one of those. I used to be OK with that - it used to be OK to tell myself stories and just tell them loudly enough that if other people wanted to hear them, that would be OK. Now, I need other people to hear them, and no one's there. It's incredibly prideful and bigheaded of me to believe that what I have to say would matter to anyone else, and it obviously doesn't, since no one respo...