Being a writer is hard when you're scared to write. I mean, it's hard for a lot of reasons, but when you're too scared to even touch a keyboard, it's really hard. That's where I'm at right now. Most of me feels like I'm in a good place mentally, but whenever I go to write, I freeze. Maybe I'm not in as good of a place as I thought. Mostly I feel okay, but there have been a few moments where I've definitely been not okay.
(I've been staring at this for a good ten minutes now, with no clue of how to continue, and, really, no want to do so)
Fuck, maybe I'm not meant to do what I want to do. Maybe I'm not meant to be a writer. Maybe I'm just meant to be a failure, forever fucking up and hurting the ones I care about. Maybe I'm not meant to be me, even though I have no idea who that person could be. Fuck.
Maybe I'm just lost inside my own headspace. That's never a good place for me to visit alone; it always breaks me. Maybe it stems from always being told that I wasn't good enough. Always it would be: "That person did better than you. Why can't you do better?" "You're so lazy." "What's your problem?" "Why can't you be like them?". Because I'm not them. I'm barely me. Never good enough. I'm never good enough. To this day, I fight (and lose to) the demons inside of me, itching to feel some modicum of self-worth. Every time that I lose, I feel more and more worthless. Slowly, that feeling of worthlessness came to be my defining feature. I'm never good enough. Even in my own mind, I'm never good enough. Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will crush my soul and break my spirit.
The broken person, especially the broken man, has become romanticized in our culture. The dark, brooding guy sitting in the corner nursing a drink. The sullen and silent man. Being 'broken' isn't something romantic. Trust me, it is super hard being romantic while you're second guessing every decision you've ever made, and low-key hating yourself for even trying to make a connection with another human. Hell, I second guess myself when I'm just talking to a friend about the fricking weather. Single file, people of all genders, and please stay calm while waiting your turn. I promise, I have enough insecurities and tears for all of you.
This is really disjointed. And this transitions? Heckin' terrible.
Who am I? They say that a person who has struggled with depression their entire lives (from childhood to present) can struggle with self-identity forever. It's hard to know who one is, when one changes on a regular basis. I wrote a poem once about all the masks I've worn, and how I have lost my true face in the dreck left behind. Maybe I threw that mask, my true face, out. Maybe I haven't gotten to it. Maybe I've never had it. Or maybe, and this is the scary one, maybe this mess of a fucked up human is my true face. How horrible would that be? I don't like this person very much. They're kinda terrible at...everything.
Well, this was much more depressing than I had planned. Guess that's what happens when you're scared to write. You start spouting truths that you don't wanna deal with.
I need a drink
Of water. It's super hot out.
(I've been staring at this for a good ten minutes now, with no clue of how to continue, and, really, no want to do so)
Fuck, maybe I'm not meant to do what I want to do. Maybe I'm not meant to be a writer. Maybe I'm just meant to be a failure, forever fucking up and hurting the ones I care about. Maybe I'm not meant to be me, even though I have no idea who that person could be. Fuck.
Maybe I'm just lost inside my own headspace. That's never a good place for me to visit alone; it always breaks me. Maybe it stems from always being told that I wasn't good enough. Always it would be: "That person did better than you. Why can't you do better?" "You're so lazy." "What's your problem?" "Why can't you be like them?". Because I'm not them. I'm barely me. Never good enough. I'm never good enough. To this day, I fight (and lose to) the demons inside of me, itching to feel some modicum of self-worth. Every time that I lose, I feel more and more worthless. Slowly, that feeling of worthlessness came to be my defining feature. I'm never good enough. Even in my own mind, I'm never good enough. Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will crush my soul and break my spirit.
The broken person, especially the broken man, has become romanticized in our culture. The dark, brooding guy sitting in the corner nursing a drink. The sullen and silent man. Being 'broken' isn't something romantic. Trust me, it is super hard being romantic while you're second guessing every decision you've ever made, and low-key hating yourself for even trying to make a connection with another human. Hell, I second guess myself when I'm just talking to a friend about the fricking weather. Single file, people of all genders, and please stay calm while waiting your turn. I promise, I have enough insecurities and tears for all of you.
This is really disjointed. And this transitions? Heckin' terrible.
Who am I? They say that a person who has struggled with depression their entire lives (from childhood to present) can struggle with self-identity forever. It's hard to know who one is, when one changes on a regular basis. I wrote a poem once about all the masks I've worn, and how I have lost my true face in the dreck left behind. Maybe I threw that mask, my true face, out. Maybe I haven't gotten to it. Maybe I've never had it. Or maybe, and this is the scary one, maybe this mess of a fucked up human is my true face. How horrible would that be? I don't like this person very much. They're kinda terrible at...everything.
Well, this was much more depressing than I had planned. Guess that's what happens when you're scared to write. You start spouting truths that you don't wanna deal with.
I need a drink
Of water. It's super hot out.
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