There comes a time when you simply stop trying and walk away from it all… feeling like, “Maybe that’s it. Maybe I’m not meant to do this.”
And for the past few years, I did that. Whether unintentionally or by circumstance, I walked away from whatever ounce of effort I had when it came to crafting together some semblance of a story.
What I thought was a decision to simply “live” was basically me running away from failure. I am so afraid of the rejection and failure that I somehow convinced myself to leave my country and venture off into the unknown to lose three years of my life, trying to survive the visible racism, my identity as a person, and the purpose of my life.
It was there, I had discovered many things about myself. My weaknesses when it comes to success and when it comes to being a good partner for someone to love. I’ve made some terrible mistakes and I’ve got this problem with coping through avoidance, materialistic pleasures, and simply, wasting time.
But, I’ve also found out what I’m good at and I’m trying to learn every day to make myself better.
It’s never too late – since you’ve only got one coin to play.
Traveling and living – has given me the best perspective on myself as a human being but also enriched it with a vast array of feelings and states of mind. From what it truly means to be alive and happy. To truly be thankful for all the people you meet… and all the horrible people that leave a mark on you, like a scar.
I don’t know how I will ever get my writing for others to read. I think about it, day in and day out. I question myself, about my ability to create. When I get excited and sit down, I find myself thinking, “Oh no, I’m not ready, I need to review the craft” or “I need to reread this book” or “I need to study more!” etc.
It’s just time wasting events. Like dwelling over the dilemma of what kind of pen I should write with or what kind of word processor should I use for scriptwriting… it’s all stupid, pointless pondering that is wasting precious brain power that is fueled by the fucking retarded self-doubt.
Fuck you, self-doubt.
And so, I have struggled with that. I have let myself waste away and I’ve cried and I’ve hated myself.
I’ve watched others climb higher and I’ve grown more bitter and felt the envy that comes with it. But, I don’t let it consume me. I’m aware like how I’m aware of the clouds moving. We cannot control them — they just float at whatever pace, regardless of how we feel or think about them.
We can only control our perspective and view of them.
If you want them to make you pissed off — then go ahead.
If you want to know and then let it fuck off — then go ahead.
One of the things I’ve gotten into is a more stoic approach to my everyday ambition — especially when it comes to controlling my own urges and automatic negative thoughts. The latter of which is something that causes more harm than anything else.
Know what you can and cannot control.
Accept and become aware of what you cannot control. The weather. The traffic. The way people look at you. The way they think of you and whether or not they like you or simply using you.
Accept and become aware of what you can control. Your habits. Your interests. The amount of time you want to devote to honing a craft. What you want to say or how you dress.
Overall, there was a point of time when I thought of myself of going to be someone great — someone of importance. This is a silly childish thought. Then, I switched to the extreme opposite: I’m never going to be anyone great — it’s all pointless. And that really screwed with my own efforts to the point of stopping completely.
And now, I’m on my third train of thought, which is the reason why I’m writing in this space again. A home for my mind and soul and words. I’ve decided to not care about the outcome. I’ve decided not to be worried over being liked or not liked to the point of having those thoughts wrestle me from what was truly important, the act of actually writing something for people to read.
Perfecting the art of practice is now the new goal. Learn to fail and let the inner BS meter go crazy and pull you back to the equilibrium that you call your inner critic.
Maybe it’ll work. Maybe it’s the thing that allows me to be free from all the burden of all the worry of success and failure.
I don’t want to waste any more brain power thinking about it, so I’ll just keep writing and see what happens.
We’ll both deal with it when it’s time to deal with it.
For now, it’s just you and me.
A beautiful bond between two minds that link beyond the symbols and the wires and the mess of our physical realm.