i have so many draft stories that i scribble down the first few thousand words of and then give up on to get ideas down because i can never finish things for some reason
like i have a whole ideas book full of concepts but i can't be fuckin asked to keep going with em
YOU ARE READING
my crappy, existential thoughts dump
Randomnote from the far future, in much better times; consider this book a diary, an archive, a live day by day biography- of the lowest point of my life so far. draw entertainment from it, by all means, but take it as a warning, of all the bad that comes...
