I can’t tell you how many times I have lost stories, poems, full novels, etc. Found them sometime later, and then lost them again. Too many to count. And now that I’ve found as many as possible (YEARS worth of writings), you guessed it… I’ve lost the entire flash drive.
How? I don’t know.
Where? I don’t know ’cause I literally left it in the same spot I always leave it.
And it’s gone, all gone. And honestly, at this point I am tired.
It has to be a sign from God. Writing, or at least trying to make a living and career out of it just isn’t meant for me. No way can one person lose so much of their art so often and this still be what they’re meant to do.
Each time I lose my art, I feel like huge pieces of me are missing. And I feel like, what is the point in continuing if every time I take a few steps forward, I’m gonna be knocked a million steps back by losing my art in some way or another?
I’m frustrated (especially since I was already having trouble writing new things for nearly three years now), angry, and really don’t know if I want to or should keep going. It just doesn’t seem meant to be any longer.