Tonight I am feeling like I will never be a real writer. I have no discipline; I'd rather be reading my InStyle magazine right now, with Drew Barrymore on the cover. And I don't even give a shit about Drew Barrymore.
I'm so self-indulgent. I never write if I don't feel like it, and I haven't been feeling like it. I've been so uninspired for the past week, and so stressed out at work. Wah, wah, wah, I know. I need to get over myself. I want to be one of those people who buckle down and work no matter what, but I'm just not.
What if I never get to be a writer, you guys? What if I have to stay at my day job forever, or at least until I get laid off (because media companies aren't doing too well these days)? And if I get laid off, I will be so fucked. I will probably have to waitress, and you know how misanthropic I am, so I'll probably last a week. And then I'll have to babysit and sell decoupaged bookcases on Etsy and I will develop a serious substance abuse problem. Hypothetically, obvs (although I do make a mean decoupaged bookcase. No, I'm totally serious).
I know I shouldn't post this, but.... eh, fuck it. Goodnight.
P.S. Oh, and I missed Gossip Girl. Worst day ever.