I’m bad at celebrating it seems. Two weeks ago I published the 150th Muse Letter which is a lot of words strung on a line over the last four years, yet if I am honest: I don’t feel particularly excited about it.
I do realise that to write this down is kind of depressing to read and I guess there is a big part of me that wants to pretend everything is amazing. Hurra!
But that would be a lie. Everything is not amazing. There’s a reason I haven’t ordered a cake or made one myself this year like I usually do. There’s a reason this anniversary has been pushed into June when truly, it was in May.
I don’t think other writers would admit to this either. It seems ungrateful. At anniversaries you’re supposed to bring out the highlight reel and celebrate. You’re supposed to market yourself and present your best.
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Yesterday I was lying in bed and this image of me holding up my life entered my mind, like Atlas holding up the world. I’m so tired…