12th April, 2024
it feels like summer is here, and summer is hell here.
the temperature is 10 degrees higher than it should be. i am not sure there would be any crops this year. the mass fires, due to heat and drought, have already started in Greece, and it is just April still.
i have done hours of editing today. i still have no guarantees that it won't be all deleted, in the blink of an eye. all of it.
i have no hope for things being just and fair. freedom of speech is an illusion, and justice is rare.
i think i will keep posting, for the people who are currently reading my stuff. if there are any at all.
the plan has always been to finish off my books and leave this shitty app anyway. and the fact that almost all of my books are 100 000+ words each is only my fault.
my fingers still hurt. my wrists still ache. but on the days i don't write, my anxiety peaks so badly that i can't sleep due to arrhythmia and chest pains. the damned stories, too, are carelessly going on, running still inside my skull. words just yearn to be written down, made real, made flesh.
i am trying to think that i'm writing for me. i am trying to ignore the fact that very few people actually like what i do. i try to ignore the pain of the realization that i am simply mediocre. that i have no talent.
that she didn't like them, my books. she, tooo, did not like them.
my hands hurt, my heart hurts, my eyes hurt too.
i have never thought that there would come a day when i would be craving for that nuclear bomb.
this diary is almost done.
i have no idea what "Z" would be looking like tomorrow. i hope i will be still alive tomorrow.
