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I am a writer desperate for joys in life.

The past

Sunday, January 1, 2017

A whole where my heart should be

      I helped a friend out by writing his paper today and I feel like I re-found my passion. I began to look up ways to get paid doing that type of work, legally. But of course, I found nothing to the effect of helping me so I just posted an ad on craigslist, hoping that I could attempt to start out small. There was a time when I refused to write papers for people because I loved freelance. I loved the way it felt to put pencil to paper, the way it felt to grind down the pencils led as ideas begin to flow through your fingers.  
      My head is filled with ideas that can only be put to use on paper to let others delve into a world of imagination. I can feel how the world exists based off how I arrange the same 26 letters in different orders.
      I feel like I am missing something. I feel like my whole life exists to do something and yet I cannot for the life of me understand what it is I am meant to be. I pretend like I am knowledgeable but in reality I just spend my time on google or use real world common sense. I feel like I am wasting my time and not being the best I could be.
     The paper I wrote had a section about procrastination and how it wastes time in which  you cant get back. So, now I am stuck in a world of loss over something I never really had.



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