I’m finding creative expression to be an odd thing. For one thing, I’m not doing it as much as I’d like but that’s a thing I’ve complained about for awhile (side note, I accidentally typed “dong” instead of “doing” at first and that’s funny because wieners are hilarious) Like, I daydream of just sitting in a room and drawing or painting or sculpting with play-dough or something but I always decide against actually doing it because I don’t have ideas and I don’t have materials and I’m always tired and have little time.
Because I don’t create nearly as much as I’d like I spend a lot of time hating myself and getting angry that I am just wasting life away. I have all these dreams and hardly chase them because I’m tired and really need to re-watch every episode of The Office for some reason.
Today though, I created something. I wrote a short story (read it here. I ain’t wasting any opportunities to self-plug) And because I’m a little narcissistic I felt entitled to have everyone I know read the damn thing. There was a voice in my head saying, “If you don’t read this you don’t care about me” which is a ridiculous thing. People have their own lives and they are going to occupy it with what they want to do and expecting them to use that precious time solely to support myself is a tad selfish. That didn’t stop me from ample self loathing and there’s a part of me that’s like “I wrote the thing. Why isn’t it getting published immediately and why am I not a famous writer now!” which is even more ridiculous. There are people who give their heart and soul to a craft and get nothing from it. There are people who do so and WANT nothing from it and here I am, cranking out a short story for the first time in ages expecting to be someone from it. It’s terrible and it’s selfish and honestly it comes from a place of loathing where I am in life at the moment which really just comes from my sever depression I’m going through the last few months. And honestly, that comes from myself. There’s no situation in life that’s going to fix that one so feeling entitled to the life that I want just because I don’t want to feel shitty and said anymore just isn’t worthwhile.
Having said that I do have dreams and desires. I even spent a lot of time recently documenting everything I want from life on a piece of paper and of course spent even more time self loathing because I have barely any of it. So I’m trying to come up with a new way of thinking. I want to be the type of person who gives my heart and soul to something and one of two things will happen. One thing that could happen is that I’ll get what I actually want (and let’s face it, unless I do what’s good for me mentally I’ll probably still struggle with this depression nonsense) or I’ll have a reason to complain at the very least which, uh, I guess is a good thing? I don’t know. The concept sounded more bad-ass and motivating when I came up with it at first.
Scared Dude 