Posted in Feelings, Life, Writer, Writing

Dying to Live

I’m dying.
With every second, minute, hour, and day.
Behind this reception desk for bullshit pay.
I’m dying.
To discover my voice, find my purpose, and see more of the world.
Why would anyone assume that I’m living?
When I have yet to feel alive?

 

Copyright 2016, All Rights Reserved.

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Author:

K. McCoy wants to live in a world where indie vinyl record shops can be found in every city and sweets don’t come with so many calories. As an Independent Writer, she has just finished her first NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) Novel, which is now being edited for its 2018 release. When she is not baking or playing Cards against Humanity with her friends, you can find her writing down new ideas and concepts somewhere sunny or discovering new music on online. You can find out how to connect and create with her by visiting her on Facebook and Instagram under K. McCoy. And if you are intrigued by the musings of a music major dropout, be sure to stop by K. McCoy's alter ego page, Soprano Musings!

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