The story had been on hiatus for almost three months now. The author announced on the news board they will take a break for an unspecified time, and that was their last post ever since then.

No more activity. No more notification. All for three straight months. It’s like they’ve vanished into thin air.

“Author, are you there?”

“. . .”

“I know you’re listening… Are you scared?”

“. . .”

“You should be, I’m coming for you.”

“. . .”

They sighed. The same texts from the same person, all over again, for the past weeks or so.

“If you don’t post the next chapter tomorrow, I will hunt you down.”

“. . .”

“Do you hear me?”

“. . .”

“It’s unfair of you to keep us waiting all this long!”

“And you think it’s not unfair to force me to write even when I'm burnt out?”

Finally, a response from the author. They snapped like a wooden stick now bearing its sharp ends.

“Everyone loved your story and this is how you repay them? Keeping all of us waiting while you’re being lazy out there?”

The author chuckled bitterly. So their depression, burned out and lack of energy to barely functioning in their daily lives is now watered down to simply “being lazy”?

“I don’t think you’re in a position to diagnose my condition.”

“If you can text me now, you should be able to write the next chapter!”

“No, it’s far more interesting seeing you threatening me.”

“I’m doing this so you will get back to your work!”

“Do you have anything else better to do than messaging me?”

A long pause breaks out after the author sends the text. Then…

“You can’t leave us hanging like this, you’re abusing our admiration for you. You should be responsible with your work. If you can’t keep up with it, maybe you shouldn’t write in the first place.”

“And maybe you shouldn’t have read my work in the first place. This is my work, I wrote it because I want to share my story, not for pleasing you or anyone else. My energy is running out because I’ve been giving too much, and I need time to replenish. I don’t have to make an excuse to take a break when I need to, and I don’t need you to follow me when all you’ll ever do is complain about me having time for myself. If you ever texted me again to threaten me like this, I will report you. Fuck off and get a life.”

After sending, the author blocks the account. They probably just lost a fan. But that’s alright, one less toxic fan is one less annoyance in their life.

The author placed down the phone and ruffled their hair into a mess, looking at the scattered drafts on their desk. They never regret publishing their story, but sometimes, things can be quite overwhelming and won’t be so easy to handle as it seems.

Admiration is a double-edge knife, after all.