Me: I am killing myself here with work, and it just gets worse. I've written like ten things this week. Nothing comes out. No one responds. For anything. No matter what it is. How good it is. How much better anyone can recognize it being than anything else. I am imprisoned by my greatness. I am reliant on idiots, bigots, and haters. This is hopeless.
Them: I'm sure you don't want to hear me saying this again but what you're creating and doing will all add to your billions at some point
Me: You're right. I don't.