misha writes. duh.

And here I am. Writing. The thing that defines me now. Writing. Alone. In. My. Apartment. My castle in the sky. The reward for getting the thing I wanted the most. Success feels a lot like death. And it’s a beautiful death. A masquerade of expensive things, empty people, and sunny skies. LA. The movie set. Everything as thin as cardboard. Everyone knows their lines. Did I write them? I. Am. The. Writer.