I have no where else to vent my frustrations (writing now seems tiring) and I suppose today, again, I wish to seek solace here. You may think that it's the most ridiculous thing to get so worked up over but I don't care. My writing works, my essays mean so much to me and now the essays I typed out on my mother's laptop are gone. I took hours, days, writing and retyping every single one of them on her laptop and I just found out that they've been wiped out. There is nobody to blame in actual fact. I am just so upset and infuriated that everybody in the house thinks nothing of it, that it's no big deal. Writing is my life. When I'm not blogging, I'm tweeting, and when I'm not tweeting or trying to come up with witty Facebook statuses, I write.
Maybe you take photographs, maybe you draw and take pictures of your artwork. What would you do if you woke up and found all your work and photographs gone and nobody gave two shits about it because it's not their life, not their business? How would that feel?
If I want to blame myself, I have nothing to say. I just feel like a huge part of me is gone. I am not sorry if I sound over dramatic, because hey, you don't care.
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