Sorry for yet another bitching topic.
A few weeks ago, I finally sat down and did the math. In essence, I have been writing fanfiction for close to eight years. Furthermore, the whole RPGC thing has been going on for about seven.
In that same amount of time:
*RPGC has died out, leaving me with only the few straggling diehards for readers.
*My life has taken a turn for shit. The career I focused four+ years of my life towards ended up resulting in nothing, I haven’t had a girlfriend in years, and I’m back living with my parents.
*Absolution, the last hope I had for a legitimate work, ended up collapsing. I couldn’t even write a single page without finding a trillion things wrong with…everything.
*My cat, which I had since I was five, suddenly died.
*I got diagnosed with Aspergers. Not that much suck, but it still pisses me off.
*And so on.
And yet, I’m still here, still writing. But for what? I still enjoy my work to an extent. The RPGC Task Force is probably the most fun I’ve had writing anything in years. But again, the site is dead. The handful that remain are certainly fun to have around, but I feel myself getting stuck in a rut, trying to satisfy the exact same expectations time and again.
You want to know what’s really sad? I’m losing sleep over this. I’m not kidding, this whole thing is stressing me out to the point of insomnia. I can’t believe just how much time and effort I’ve placed into what is basically just a giant, burning piss in the wind. I’m not a good writer by any means. I’m starting to get older than half the Internet. And my many attempts at a real life are constantly thwarted by my own retardedness.
There. I feel better now.
