A Writer's Notebook, Day Three-Hundred-And-Eighty

I do not want to be writing tonight.  I've had a really awful day, which is part of a whole series of events that have played out in exactly the way I feared they would.  I had very little energy to really put into my work after all of that, and was honestly consoling myself with thoughts about how I am at least doing my work and getting it out there, attempting to keep some optimism about things, when, right on cue, I received a rejection letter.  In all truth, that rejection shouldn't matter much to me in itself, but I really was hit hard tonight, with everything else, and it really made me feel like not getting to work.

But I did.  The poems I've written are not anything all that great, I don't think, and much of it was self-pity, but I did that work, and I know that tomorrow morning I will do more.  It does not change how I feel, or lessen the sting of that too well-timed rejection, but I do feel good that, at least, I am keeping at it, doing the things I can, even when I feel like it would be easier to stop, I keep going, because I know, deep down where I cannot always reach, that it is important, that doing this work matters in some way, even if I am not aware of why or how.

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