Member-only story
If You’re Doubted, Keep Going
It’s almost one am and I can’t go back to sleep.
Last night I got in bed earlier than usual — around eight pm EST — so I could continue reading A Moveable Feast, technically Hemingway’s last work. It was published posthumously. I fell asleep while reading it.
I’m reading it for a couple of reasons. First, of course is that I love France and that’s where the book took place. And the other reason is that Hemingway’s situation reminds me of my own: a Europe-loving guy in his early twenties who’s trying to make a career in writing.
Writing is truly my favorite thing to do. I was texting my friend Philip last night and he joked that I write as much as he reads (he reads a lot). Writing is my passion. It’s my therapy.
And it’s what I’m doing right now, at one am, because I cannot sleep.
I can’t sleep because of emotional bullshit, quite frankly.
The past year was an intensely difficult one for me. From April 2019 to April 2020, I quit my job, worked on my business full time à la investors, lost my girlfriend, lost my business and those investors (and thus my full time salary, which I still don’t have), lost touch with once-loved people in my life, and am constantly doubted…
