I had spent so much time wanting to be a part of it and working my butt off to do things for them

and there were so many ungrateful people there that just shit out a story and everyone OMG LUVD IT

and those assholes were the ones that scored positions in the editorial staff the following year

and I didn't.

I mean maybe I am just being butthurt and I KNOW I am not one to be cocky.

but I put a lot of grief into yearbook.

I did a lot for those people but they never cared because I was ~weird~ or something.

and in the end, the fucking position I applied for was taken by a FRESHMAN

A FUCKING FRESHMAN

why?

because she was on the good side of the TWATFACED CUNT THAT WAS PICKED FOR EDITOR

THAT GIRL ISN'T EVEN A SENIOR THIS YEAR

SHE IS A JUNIOR

AND SHE IS RUNNING THE YEARBOOK

AND IT IS ALL BECAUSE SHE FED LAST YEAR'S EDITOR'S EGO SO GODDAMN MUCH

THAT HE WAS CONVINCED SHE WAS A LIKABLE PERSON

AND WANTED TO DATE HER!!!!!!!!

what

he

fucking SHIT

nobody on the staff knew what they were doing basically, and nobody CARED

there were lik

e

two that genuinely did

but of course they got nothing either.

nobody got what they deserved.

the people that deserved the world got SHIT

and the people that deserved to be stepped on and savagely beaten got power

and if that is the way that the system of journalistic work teams is going to work

then I want absolutely NOTHING to do with it.

that is probably the most disappointing thing I have had to face, the fact that I can't do the things I love because they have nothing

to do with capability and talent and skill, only the amount of ass kissing that you do.

and I was so passionate about writing until I realized that I am never going to get anything for all the work that I put into a story

I think the saddest thing is that I still absolutely love it, I almost prefer writing essays and news to creative writing.

But I have no willpower to do so because of the crap I saw in that staff.

I have so much spite for those people, I feel like they ate away at my passion and I know it's my own damn fault for letting them

but it was such a big dream for me and now it means nothing. I don't know what to do with myself or my life anymore because that seriously

tested my desire to deal with such tomfuckery again, and I hate it because I KNOW that I can still do it and I still love to do it but now

I almost feel like everything I write will be tossed aside because of the name put to the story and pretty much nobody respects or expects

anything good from me, so my stories have almost zero worth. And I don't know why I feel like this and I wish I could stop restraining

myself like this and do what I love again.

it is probably the only thing that ever mattered to me so much and I hate feeling that burning love and inspiration gone from inside of me.

I guess I am done ranting and if you read this you are a god.