I can't sleep.
I'm terrified that I'm out of ideas, out of stories to tell, or worse yet that I never had any.
No one reads my work, I won't let them even when they ask, and what's worse is when they do- they really don't get it
what place is there for a storyteller no one identifies with?
What place is there for storytellers?
When they innevitabley find me, crushed under the weight of my own expectations, of this world, and of myself, and how I failed to uphold them, they'll ask why
the note will say why not?