if the crap fits, wear it | elly mitchell

Friday, 20 September 2019

It would be an understatement to proclaim that my writing has taken 'a bit of a backseat' in the past year or so; I don't actually remember the last time I actively chose to sit myself in front of a computer and produce something of any creative persuasion. 

My attention has predominately shifted towards self-navigating through my twenty-fifth year, with the aim of enduring as little perpetual trauma as possible, failing relatively miserably, but, hey, that's what therapy is for, amirite?!

If I were to follow suit, then typically I would now bestow upon you a long-arse post about what's been happening in my life; I shan't be doing that, for one unyielding reason: it would be hideously narcissistic of me believe that anyone actually gives a shit what I've been doing with my life over the past year. 

Nevertheless, I am required to write something, so here is a passive-aggressive, cryptic summary of lessons learned this year, take from it what you will: 

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