What I think my gift is
"My story is like colorful candy! You'll love it!"
(I'm still a shitty writer, though.)
What my gift actually is.
(A lot of stinky hot air that no-one wants.)
For reasons like I'm stupid, I thought that people would enjoy reading an entire-ass 3000-ish word chapter from my WIP.
Only one person even responded, and I didn't get the impression that they were terribly impressed.
I am trying to figure out what I'm going to do with myself. I put so much of myself into writing things that nobody wants to read. What the hell is wrong with me.
I hate the fucking holidays. They remind me of everything that I've lost and what an abject failure I am.
There. Now you have one more thing that you can hate about me. Because the one thing I'm good at is being everybody's punching bag.