Today it's hard for me to create and find the right words to type. The second day of the new year brings attention to the fact that aspects of your life don't get left behind just because it's the new year. You don't just forget how were feeling the day before, because technically your issue was a problem in last year. The anxiety travels, the angst from which you suffer follows you around like a newly attached puppy.
I have so much I to day due to the billions of thoughts racing through my head but I just can't seem to organize them. I can't process them quickly enough to turn my thoughts into art. Even as I'm typing this now, I'm struggling with finding the right words. I over think, I over process, I over analyze. As I try to sift through my racing thoughts, I try to create, attempting to come up with clever phrases, one that sticks out to an audience and impress them with my impressive skills. The last thought on my mind should be about how my writing will be received and more on the art itself. I can't help but pressure myself into manic episodes fueled by anxiety as I question my worth.
It's a lot more than just being insecure when it has everything to do with being insecure at the same time. I know that may sound confusing, but my point is, is that my lack of confidence in myself as a writer is greater than me believing I lack talent. The issue lies in the fact that, my place in the big cosmic picture is fuzzy. It's like a cloud of mist on a dark night, when you get close to it, the cloud vanishes into thin air like it was never even there.
It's so frustrating when you feel a little bit of everything all at the same time and you're never really sure of exactly what you're feeling and why. Some days are regular day, but then there are some, which has been most lately, where I just can't seem to get a grip of things. I know someone understand how it feels when you're thoughts turn on you as if you tried to tame a wild animal and make it your pet. They overshadow everything else that is happening right in front of you, taking you away from the moment you're in. Can you imagine living like that? A life where your thoughts interfere with your ability to experience moments in life as they happen, only giving you sparse, short opportunities for escape.
The goal though is to continue to fight the doom and gloom that works tirelessly to ruin my life, turning me into a zombie. It always gets a little more difficult, always when I think Im making progress. It's so easy to sit there and feel what you're feeling. Just let the dead and empty feeling take over because you're out the energy to fight. But somehow you have to find it from somewhere, force it even just so that you can prove to yourself that your heart is still beating. Forcing it seems to be the only option, especially when your only other choice is to sit back and let the darkness win. It's an exhausting battle when every cell in your body just wants to sit in stillness. You subconscious constantly instructing you to sit and wait and wallow as the time passes you by, manipulating you into believing that you just have to wait it out. Waiting comes with action if you want any results, so here I am sitting in my bed typing whatever words come to my mind. Trying not to concern myself with how entertaining someone will find this blog, or if anyone will care to really read it. I just want to express myself, using my words to release a little bit of this harmful energy from myself and to hopefully bring comfort to another. It's hard to write right now, I don't feel like a writer anymore. It still doesn't feel authentic yet. Forcing it feels ugly in the moment, but I think it helps in the long run. Maybe I feel stupid now, but as I write more, as I give my audience more substance, the feeling will become more natural. At least that's what I hope. I wanna get back to a place of peace, a place where it'll finally feel good again to do all of the things I love.
I have so much I to day due to the billions of thoughts racing through my head but I just can't seem to organize them. I can't process them quickly enough to turn my thoughts into art. Even as I'm typing this now, I'm struggling with finding the right words. I over think, I over process, I over analyze. As I try to sift through my racing thoughts, I try to create, attempting to come up with clever phrases, one that sticks out to an audience and impress them with my impressive skills. The last thought on my mind should be about how my writing will be received and more on the art itself. I can't help but pressure myself into manic episodes fueled by anxiety as I question my worth.
It's a lot more than just being insecure when it has everything to do with being insecure at the same time. I know that may sound confusing, but my point is, is that my lack of confidence in myself as a writer is greater than me believing I lack talent. The issue lies in the fact that, my place in the big cosmic picture is fuzzy. It's like a cloud of mist on a dark night, when you get close to it, the cloud vanishes into thin air like it was never even there.
It's so frustrating when you feel a little bit of everything all at the same time and you're never really sure of exactly what you're feeling and why. Some days are regular day, but then there are some, which has been most lately, where I just can't seem to get a grip of things. I know someone understand how it feels when you're thoughts turn on you as if you tried to tame a wild animal and make it your pet. They overshadow everything else that is happening right in front of you, taking you away from the moment you're in. Can you imagine living like that? A life where your thoughts interfere with your ability to experience moments in life as they happen, only giving you sparse, short opportunities for escape.
The goal though is to continue to fight the doom and gloom that works tirelessly to ruin my life, turning me into a zombie. It always gets a little more difficult, always when I think Im making progress. It's so easy to sit there and feel what you're feeling. Just let the dead and empty feeling take over because you're out the energy to fight. But somehow you have to find it from somewhere, force it even just so that you can prove to yourself that your heart is still beating. Forcing it seems to be the only option, especially when your only other choice is to sit back and let the darkness win. It's an exhausting battle when every cell in your body just wants to sit in stillness. You subconscious constantly instructing you to sit and wait and wallow as the time passes you by, manipulating you into believing that you just have to wait it out. Waiting comes with action if you want any results, so here I am sitting in my bed typing whatever words come to my mind. Trying not to concern myself with how entertaining someone will find this blog, or if anyone will care to really read it. I just want to express myself, using my words to release a little bit of this harmful energy from myself and to hopefully bring comfort to another. It's hard to write right now, I don't feel like a writer anymore. It still doesn't feel authentic yet. Forcing it feels ugly in the moment, but I think it helps in the long run. Maybe I feel stupid now, but as I write more, as I give my audience more substance, the feeling will become more natural. At least that's what I hope. I wanna get back to a place of peace, a place where it'll finally feel good again to do all of the things I love.
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