I don’t want to read about daisies or the weather.
I come here to struggle. To write the best I can about shit that matters to me.
And I take courage and strength from those who are writing from the deep, their dark. I take compassion from the vulnerability and kindness I see. And I remember my humanity.
Keep going. Don’t temper anything.
Block anyone who can’t handle your truth or words. And find those who are on a similar journey. They will fuel you.
And do everything you can to forget about the hearts. They destroy us as writers. They claim our muse and chain her up with expectations and fake measures.