Well, I intended this blog post to be one proclaiming victory, but a different mood has gotten the better of me in the past couple of days.
Now that the high has worn off, I find myself grieving. I’m not bawling my eyes out or anything, but I’m feeling a little blue, a little melancholy. For writing such an emotional and ultra-personal book, a price had to be paid at some point. I should have expected this.
But I never would have guessed how badly I would hurt. By publishing the story, I’ve lost it. It’s gone; it’s out of my life now. I honestly feel like I’ve lost a dear friend who has moved far away and never wants to talk to me again. It’s like a close family member has turned their back on me and told me to get lost. I just feel a great sense of loss inside of me. For an entire year, everything I lived for was to write San Jose's Darlings, and now that the book has been published, this sense of purpose, this reason to continue existing, has left me. Needless to say, I’m feeling dazed and a little lost.
What I've written here must sound weird, but it’s very real to me. Since I can’t really enjoy being around people (and since people don’t like being around me), my characters take their place and fill that social void inside of me. I practically ate, slept, and breathed alongside these characters for a whole year. I spoke with them; I laughed with them; I wept with them. They were my best friends, and I knew them well. Now, they’re not my friends anymore. They’ve moved on.
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