Land of the fees, home of the slaves

So for the last couple of days I have been working on a Facebook page to help me promote my blog and acquire more followers to read said blog. Granted, I didn’t break my back over it but I had put in a lot of effort to build the page having spent hours on all the dumbass little things that are required to connect my blog to it and to make it look, at least in my opinion, legit. I really have no idea what I’m doing and was in fact following a blueprint type thing on how to become a writer, or how to make money as a writer. It’s began with me starting this website and this blog thing. It says that writers write so I was trying to just flood this shit with a wide variety of writing, partially just trying to awaken my brain and get it used to writing again. Next recommendation was to link social media to this page so I could expand the reach that my writings would have. I created a Facebook page especially for this blog so that my posts would automatically be shared with Facebook. I even started a lame ass Twitter account for this purpose and I hate Twitter. Just following the recommendations suggested for doing something that is completely alien to me. I thought everything was working out pretty well. I started the Twitter account, linked both it and the Facebook page I had created to my blog and I was actually feeling pretty good about it all. I felt like I was accomplishing some shit and I was satisfied with what I had created which if you know me is not always a sure thing. I know that all of this doesn’t mean shit to any of you. I’m sure what took me days to accomplish, y’all would have gotten done in an hour and so having to redo all that shit again wouldn’t be a big deal for you, but it is for me. Firstly my brain damaged mind can’t remake something it can’t quite remember and so if I do go through all that bullshit again to link it to Facebook, it’s not gonna be the same. I’m sure there will be some aspect of it that I hate or that just doesn’t feel right and so I will trash it again and again. I feel like I had that one shot to make it as I wanted it made and with them casually trashing it all like it meant nothing it has got me to feeling a certain kind of way. For a second I was full of excitement and confidence in this whole undertaking. Satisfied with what I had created so far and felling like it had value. Yeah, not now. Now I just feel pissed and the chances of me just saying fuck all of this and walking away from this joke of an idea/dream have increased tenfold. Who the fuck am I kidding anyways? I’m not a writer. I’m a drug addicted, drug dealing criminal. Always have been. Always will be. What the fuck am I gonna write about anyways? Gangbanging and drug slanging? Ha. Fuck you.

Published by devilmonkey666

I'm a hot mess. A 41 year old child who still doesn't know what he wants to be when he grows up. Or even if he wants to grow up for that matter. People say I'm a writer. I'm not so sure. But it is therapeutic and helps me from going all the way left sometimes.

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