Lately your nose has been shooting gouts of blood out of it
every morning, as you get up, and every night, just before you go to bed. You've been to four doctors about it, and
each one has told you that the nosebleeds appear to be stress related. But there's a problem: you're an award
winning playwrite who has never worked a day in her life, and you really don't
have a lot of stressors in your life, so there's nothing for you to adjust in
your daily habits that could potentially stop your nosebleeds. You could see a therapist, but your
"artistic mindset" has left you convinced that if you seek help for
the various problems you have in life, you'll stop being creative. What's an artist to do?!
Today, three days in to a Burmese hike-fest, your nosebleeds
are going to stop. You'll consult the
travelling shaman who'll be leading you along the mountain passes and he'll
inform you that your chakras are now open, or some horseshit like that, which
will basically be his way of saying "you got over your own bullshit for a
while." Your assistant, whose name
is either Hazel or Heather (you never bothered to learn) will pipe up that you
have, for the first time in a long time, been out of wifi range for an extended
period of time and have, therefore, not had any access to the bevy of negative
comments about your work that pour through the internet unbidden.
You'll promptly fire your assistant, but tomorrow, when you
reflect on her notion, you'll realize that she's sort of right. Later, after you return home, you'll resolve
to stop reading comments about yourself for a month and see what happens. Your nose will stop gushing blood, and you'll
rest easily, though your sex life will become less interesting as you'll no
longer head out to random bars each evening to have random men fuck the living
shit out of you as an act of contrition against the negativity that the
comments build up inside of you.
We look forward to reading your next substandard play!
Congratulations on Stopping Those Nosebleeds!
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