Alright, folks. I need to be real with you for a minute.
I’m struggling. A lot. With this story.
I went into this knowing it wouldn’t be easy, but I never expected it to get this hard. The stress has been next-level. How next-level? Well, my brain has decided to host nightly critique sessions in my dreams, where the main feature is a brilliantly clear message that whatever I’ve written for Chapter 4 is absolute trash. It’s… not a great time.
It’s gotten so intense that my body is literally reacting—I’ve been getting stress-induced nosebleeds, which is a fun new development that I absolutely did not sign up for.
So, here’s the honest truth: I have no idea if I will ever actually finish this. The thought of starting something new is completely off the table. My only goal right now is to try. To see if I can wrestle this thing into a shape I’m proud of, one word at a time, without completely burning out. Then we'll see.
I’m not giving up. But I am admitting that I’m faltering.
Thanks for listening. It means more than you know.