Hello, my sisters and brothers in writing arms.
My name is Raven, and I'm a damn blogger. The piece of content you are reading now is my particular chronicle, my diary.
Not the entire journal of course, as I have no slightest intention to bore you to death with the long story of my life. These are just the abstracts - pieces of the puzzle you will quickly put together in your head. I believe the picture you’ll see will make you change your life for better.
Names, dates, places and certain events have been changed in order not to violate the rights of the people involved in my story.
Why should you take your time and read this writing delirium of a loony junkie? You really shouldn't. However, if the following abstract is about you, this can mean only one thing - you need HELP just like I needed it when there was nobody around...
I hope my diary will help you save the residues of a sound mind or at least make you recognize that you've got a problem.
Writing is the dragon that lives underneath my floorboards. The one I incessantly feed for fear it may turn and devour my ass. Writing is the friend who doesn't return my phone calls; the itch I'm unable to scratch; a dinner invitation from a cannibal; elevator music for a narcoleptic. Writing is the hope of lifting all boats by pissing in the ocean. Writing isn't something that makes me happy like a good cup of coffee. It's just something I do because not writing, as I've found, is so much worse.
Quentin R. Bufogle
Guess who is the happiest person in the whole earth, in the whole galaxy, in all of God's creation? It's me! I applied for the job of my dream at NastyCrusty and they offered me the position of a copywriter. The interview with Ron, my boss-to-be, and the girl from their HR department whose name I don't remember went smooth. They liked my test writing; they were so friendly and smiled so heartily.
They said I can come to the office tomorrow. I swear that the grass had never smelled grassier and the sky had never seemed so high 😀 . I am sure I will write a bestseller one day. Diary, you'll have to wait until tomorrow when I come and share my impressions about my new friends and challenges. See ya.
My first day at the office was really exhausting, yet interesting. My team lead Olivia gave me so many guides to study… They have a kind of publications plan there, but my personal plan is flexible now and it will stay flexible while I’m learning.
Oh please, Diary, help me to be strong and consistent. Help me to exercise every morning and night to be thin, take care of my skin till it gets absolutely flawless and petal smooth and clear, dress like a fashion model, eat right and be optimistic and agreeable and positive and cheerful. I want to be important so much! Maybe the new me will be different.
Sorry, Diary, I need to look through all these guides on corporate writing style once again before I go to sleep.
Nothing bugs me. I’m so excited about this new job! Olivia included me as an author and my future articles into the publication plan. I will run 4 blogs and do some other minor things. Actually it’s quite a lot of work, but I’m ready to write day and night to meet the deadlines.
Nobody will know my little secret 😎 . Don’t you think that when something is going good, everything else goes good too?
My new team, including Olivia, is quite satisfied with my work. Olivia says that she likes my writing style, that’s it’s so lively and confident. If I will go on like this, my articles will be published on main NastyCrusty blog. I will become one of its authors…
Oh dear Diary, I'm sorry I've neglected you, but I've been so busy. I have had a cold for the last week. I tried really hard to hide it and continued to go to the office. High temperature and terrible headache slowed me down, so I had to write at nights to deliver the work on time.
When I bought you, Diary, I was going to write diligently in you every day, but I’m writing all the time now except for the time I fall asleep. It becomes more and more difficult for me to fall asleep. I am constantly thinking about the article I should write tomorrow. Some days nothing worth writing happens and other days I'm too busy or too bored or too angry or too annoyed, or just too me to do anything I don't have to do.
I think I'm a pretty lousy friend even to you. Anyway I feel closer to you than I do to even Mia and Chloe and Hannah who are my very best friends. Even with them I'm not really me. I'm partly somebody else trying to fit in and say the right things and do the right things and be in the right place and wear what’s trending. Sometimes I think I am just a shadow of real me on public, trying to do the same things and everything even if I don't like them.
People are like robots off an assembly line, and I don't want to be a robot!
Oh Diary, it was miserable! The office has become the loneliest, coldest place in the world. Not one single person spoke to me during the whole endlessly long day. I came to Olivia and said I had a problem with my spine. Then I cut my working day and went by the drugstore and had a chocolate malt, an order of french fried potatoes and a Hershey Bar. There had to be something in life that was worthwhile. I hated myself for being childish all the time I ate.
I have probably done the same thing to every new person that came to my previous work places. I either ignored them or stared at them out of curiosity. So, now I'm just getting "cut" back and I guess I deserve it, but I am suffering! I ache even in my fingernails and toenails and in my hair follicles.
Oh, happiness and joy and elation! I've finally found a friend at the office. He's as cloddy and misfitting as I am. I believe that old poke about birds of a feather is true. We are chatting all the time and can’t get enough of each other. Ethan promises to pick me up for the movies one night. It’s unbelievable but I became more productive notwithstanding all these endless talks with him. Maybe I’m falling in love…
My birthday. Not much...
Sorry I haven't had time to write for so long. My friends ceased to call me because I'm always too busy to go out with them and even if I do, I never put off my smartphone in order to read and post something that could draw more public attention to my blog posts. They can't understand that I should meet the deadlines. They say I'm writing all the time, I have raccoon eyes, I look too skinny and exhausted.
I think the situation is temporary, I just need to finish everything that is planned for this month, otherwise I will lose my job or get a disbonus. Not sure when I could come to you again, my diary.
My son is 16 today. I had no time to bake a cake for him, so I ordered the one in the bakery. Sounds incredible but I missed several years of his life. I am an awful mom 😥 . He won a scholarship and is heading to America. I am staying here all alone. Now it will be like a tet-a-tet, just me and my articles.
Office was a nightmare. After our yesterday’s talk, when Ethan understood that I’m totally in love with him, I was afraid I'd see him every time I turn my head, yet at the same time I was desperate for fear I wouldn't see him ever again. I kept telling myself: "Maybe he will change his heart." I pretended I didn't care, but oh, Diary, you even can’t imagine how much I do! I care so much that it burns when I breathe; it feels like the dawn of the dead, like bombs goin' off in my head.
My whole insides have shattered 🙁
I feel so miserable and embarrassed and humiliated and beaten that’s it’s a great surprise I still function, still talk and smile and concentrate. How could Ethan have done this to me? No, I am not going to hurt him back neither physically nor emotionally. I know it won’t help but I wrote a story “An island of the forgotten items” and a letter to him. He will never read these writings. I'll never measure up to his expectations 😕
Not sure what date it is. The last thing I remember is that I fell down right on the office floor. I am at the hospital now; the diagnosis is complete mental and physical debilitation. They stuff me with drugs and vitamins. I am sleeping almost all the time.
Will write here later. Feel too tired and empty inside to continue.
Finally I got out of the hospital. They prescribed me a heap of pills and prohibited to smoke, drink alcohol, work so much, I should also visit my doctor twice a year to get the necessary injections and droppers... But who's the hell they are to tell me what to do??? I was writing even when I have been overdosed with their medicines. Wanna go back to work asap.
P.S. I need to buy another diary as you are already filled.
I nearly died three weeks after my decision not to keep another diary. My mom came home from a friend and found me half-alive. She called the police, and the hospital and the doctors managed to bring me back to life again.
Was it an accidental writing overdose? An intentional writing overdose? No one knows, and in some ways, that question isn't important. What must be of concern is that I nearly died and that I might become only one of thousands of drug deaths that year. I must forget about everything. I must repent and forgive myself and start over; I can't stop life and get off. Besides, since I've thought about my dad’s dying from cancer, I don't want to die. I'm afraid. Isn't that ghastly and ironic? I'm afraid to live and afraid to die.
I didn’t tell anybody, but I neglected doctor’s advice as to regular visits to the hospital, reducing the number of articles I write, and many others. I just started to experiment with
weeds, shrooms, amphetamines, pot, grass, barbs, LSD, DMT, meth, Speed, acid, hash, torpedos, even smack and whatnot. They are like riding shooting stars through the Milky Way, only a million, trillion times better. I felt happy and free as a bright canary chirping through the open, endless heavens. And I was so relaxed! I simply haven't the energy or the strength or the desire to write anything without doping.
BTW, having sex being stoned first is like lightning and rainbows and springtime 😉
The doctor prescribed me sleeping pills again. I'm never going to be able to sleep without them. I don't need the sleep as much as I need the escape. It's a wonderful way to get away. When I finish another writing piece, I just take a pill and wait for sweet nothingness to take over. At this stage in my life nothingness is a lot better than somethingness.
It’s too bad that the sleeping pills lose their strength when you take them for a long period. I have to take two of these and sometimes even three. Maybe it's because I'm so nervous.
Anyway, I don't know how much longer I can last; if something doesn't happen soon I think I'm going to blow my brains out!
I asked my doctor for some tranquilizers. Tranquilizers are the greatest. They give me the possibility to write at daytime, and my sleeping pills help me to have some rest at night.
I keep asking myself how I could have been such an idiot! A stupid, bungling, senseless, foolish, ignorant idiot! If there were medals and prizes for stupidity and gullibleness, I certainly would receive the half-assed one. The only thing I am longing for now is to throw away my sleeping pills and tranquilizers, and become myself again! Or will I spend the rest of my life feeling like a walking disease?
If you are reading this, you are still alive, and I hope you have no flashbacks, nightmares, hallucinations or any other mental disorders. Please, take care, don't let the work, be it writing or something else you are passionate about burning you out. Remember that work is just a part of your life and virtual world with all its miracles does not exist in reality.
Nobody wins when you ruin yourself, your family, all your ties and connections for work’s sake.
“Eat healthy (fruits vegetables), do exercise, try to avoid negative stress, no alcohol and no smoking” – these words have become commonplace. But what else do we humans need to keep our body and mind fit and healthy till we are gone? How to succeed at work without putting your personal life on its altar? Take it easy, ok? It’s never too late to change your lifestyle and mindset.
Don't think you can follow the above tips? Then, just go to see the doctor before it's too late.
Take care and let me know in the comments section if you are also trying to survive the writing/coding/web designing overdose. Maybe you have more tips for MonsterPost readers and me? Please feel free to rate, like, and share this blog post on social networks, to ask any questions and put down all your thoughts and worries down below.
Believe me, the garbage that goes with drugs (even if you think that you are just a harmless writing junkie) makes the price too goddamned high for anyone to pay. I've been scared to death to even think of anything that even looks or seems like dope even if it’s just writing. After you've had it, there isn't even life without drugs. It's a prodding, colorless, dissonant bare existence.
So, keep away from working overdose & use templates from TemplateMonster (they will prevent you from extra efforts).
That's life. Take it, live it, and enjoy it!
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