I had this irl writer m8 who I once used to chat about plenty of books, but once he hit writer's block he increasingly gave in to distractions and his spirit became decayed. Now he's turned into an unemployed alcoholic gooner greeting me with packs of e-thot whenever I check my phone. And he used to be the brightest of my consoomer friends. I feel bad for him but now I just ghost his ass for long periods to avoid getting caught in his gooncrab spiral. When most connections in the modern world are designed to hamper you from writing more pages, my suggestion is to only nurture those that provide as much integrity to you as you provide to them.