There isn’t only one worthwhile writing life. Placing academia—and because of the requirements of academia, a dedication to publishing—at the center of all conversations about writing greatly limits how we imagine the relationship between art and artist.
These systems of friendship, queerness, capital, belonging—they overlap and entrap, splinter and reform.
But if you were ever actually satisfied it wouldn’t be satisfaction. You would just get hungry for something else. The only way to maybe have satisfaction would be to accept the nothingness and not try to put anyone else in it.
If I died for him, it was kind of like him not texting me back on a cosmic level.
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