One question keeps presenting itself over and over again tonight, as I sit here stranded in my room: What the hell am I going to do now? I suppose the answer depends on who you ask, but to me there is a very limited future lying in wait, one I’d never believed would actually happen. My entire life, I thought I would go to school, graduate, go to
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what did happen to writing?
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I still enjoy writing; I've always done written well, but I have insecurites as to if my writing is good enough to achieve the type of job I would want.
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