Insecurity

I hate it that I don't feel right, wait, that I feel absolutely WRONG when I don't get reviews for my work. I'm not writing for anyone else, I write because it makes me feel whole, and alive. It's really the only thing that makes me not a waste of space. Why can't that be enough? Today was a horrible day. Depressing. I posted last night and hundreds, literally HUNDREDS of people read the story, but no reviews. What's up with that? HUNDREDS! And not one can hit the review button? Which makes me worry that they're not reviewing because it's shit and they can't be bothered.

(sigh)

I know it's not shit. I do. I know that there is always room for improvement, but I know it's not shit.

Last thing at work, I saw that someone had posted a review. They loved it. Big time. And I felt better instantly. That's so fucked up.

I felt even better when I got home and had a shot of gold, of course. I can see why people drink a lot. Takes the edge off. I've got to be careful. Not going to be a lush.

But not giving up Cuervo, either. Bottled sex.