When I Was 8 Years Old, I Became Depressed. I Kept Asking Why I Was Born This Way [without Arms And Legs]. I Also Worried About My Future. At The Age Of 10, I Tried To Commit Suicide Because I Felt Like Giving Up. But When I Imagined My Loving Parents Crying At My Grave, I Decided To Stay.
Respect your soul: don't keep repeating "I'm going to make it". Your soul already knows that, what it needs is to use the long journey to be able to grow, stretch along the horizon, touch the sky. An obsession does not help you at all to reach your objective, and even ends up taking the pleasure out of the climb. But pay attention: also, don't keep saying "it's harder than I thought", because that will make you lose your inner strength.
The urge to create a fictional narrative is a mysterious one, and when an idea comes, the writer's sense of what a story wants to be is only vaguely visible through the penumbra of inspiration.