Today, Dad asked me what I would do if I didn't become an author. I didn't answer him...I couldn't answer him. It was like something had stuck its icy hand into my chest and grabbed my heart. I couldn't breathe, move, think.
Becoming an author is not an option. I'm going to fucking do it. I would kill for it. It's the only thing I've ever wanted...the only thing I'm good at.
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