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I started reading works by Orson Scoot Card, a science fantasy fiction writer, yeah i know i reek of geek butt your eyes are reading this so I have nothing to prove to anyone. Although by making that statement it actually has the oppostie effect thereby nullifing the desired outcome. I just finished his Ender series and am now working my way through his Shadow series. His fiction is fantastic because it based primarily on ethical dilemias that his charaters face.
I kept myself up for an hour in what i was sure was a THC/CBD induced coma where i could not stay awake but i could not sleep for lack of thinking. I realized something that made me writher inside. I have been in deep denial about it for sometime, I know how i want my life to play out, i look at my past exploits and sigh with contentment because i exployted each opprotunity to its fullest potential for the most fun on my part. But have i done enough? will my gravestone read here lies that chick that worked her way here, or here lies the chick that kept moving without fear.
probably the former and i am cool with that
fuck spell check
