Somedays its harder to get out of bed
Somedays it's easier to write about other things than to write about me. Let me write about other things for now - I can't write about me.
Maybe tomorrow it'll get better.
"If you saw Atlas, the giant who holds the world on his shoulders, if you saw that he stood, blood running down his chest, his knees buckling, his arms trembling but still trying to hold the world aloft with the last of his strength, and the greater the effort the heavier the world bore down upon his shoulders—what would you tell him to do?"
"I…don’t know. What…could he do? What would you tell him?"
"To shrug."
Somedays it's easier to write about other things than to write about me. Let me write about other things for now - I can't write about me.
Maybe tomorrow it'll get better.
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