I am two banks of the river

Talk about using my writing for evil. Talk about feeling soul sick about it. I’m writing some shit about dodging taxes by setting up offshore business shit. Honestly, I accepted the assignment without even knowing what they wanted me to write, just because I needed the work. But now I feel pretty dirty and gross about it. Honestly, I would probably have been like “just kidding, I can’t write this” except it’s a pretty new client and I’m trying to build up a good relationship with them. Last week: articles about gardening and garden pests. This week: fucking tax dodging grossness. Like… okay…  I wonder if my parents would be willing to bankroll me for a couple months if I used those months to write the stupid fucking novel that they are always bugging me to write. Like… I’m so fucking cynical I guess, compared to them. I like to think of it as more realistic really, but whatever. Like… between my whole family combined, we’ve come up with a lot of fucking cool creative shit, and nothing has ever really come from any of it. No real money, no real success. But still, when I talk to my mom about money, about what I should do with my life, most of her ideas are outlandish creative stuff. Write a novel, start a pie making company… like… what?? I love her optimism and stuff, honestly, but idk. It just seems… so unrealistic. idk. I need something reliable. I’m stressing myself to death. Seriously, it’s not cool and not good how much I’m stressing about everything. I need to chill the hell out. I need to figure out what I should do and fucking do it. I can’t go around with this huge anxiety knot in my stomach every fucking second, choking me, strangling me, boiling up and up and up. Tomorrow is the primary for my state, I already voted a few days ago, and then spent my Saturday morning at a totally bizarre delegate voting meeting, where I almost *became* a fucking delegate for my precinct, but then someone who actually wanted to do it showed up, so I didn’t have to, which was cool. yeah. I drank way too much this weekend, allowed myself to drink last night because of how stressed and anxious I was feeling. A couple hours of peace, at a high price. Saturday night was the nicest, I felt relatively free and had quite a bit of fun with my S.O. yeah. I dunno. I dunno what this post is about, and I dunno. I think now is a good time for me to go.


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