I made it to the halfway point. It is 1:16am and I'm at a coffeehouse surrounded by other wrimos. My butt hasn't left this odd blue leather chair in over two hours.
Somehow reaching the middle of the middle has now terrified me. I have no idea what to write next. Maybe I should blame that on the hour, but I now feel a terrible amount of pressure to finish well what I have started. I feel the need to make it all worthwhile. I drug myself this far, sometimes kicking and screaming. Don't let this misery have been in vain, self. Don't you dare give up now.
3:01am Edit: I'm 1,000 words past the middle now. I totally rock.
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