Schizophrenic Bliss

A Story by Eliazar

As I sit here in my room at almost midnight trying to come up with something to write, I think about my friend who says that I have the potential to be a good writer. My older and better friend, “Self-doubt”, steps into my vision from the corner of my eye and mocks me for thinking so highly of myself. It tells me that I do not have what it takes to write something that a well-functioning person would like. I think about this for a second and then remember how existence does not truly have a meaning. I know I’ll write something horrifyingly unappealing, but it won’t really matter so I might as well keep pushing. Finding motivation in my existential dread, I continue writing and notice how I’ve written an entire paragraph with complete faith in myself.

HA! In your face, Self-doubt.

With a sense of accomplishment I carry on typing and feel ecstatic about all the ideas I can pursue in this writing. As I consider using complex allegories to appear intellectually superior to my peers, another one of my friends comes to greet me. This time it is my beloved “Ego” who is in desperate need of being inflated. Ironically, it urges me to fill this paragraph with a beautiful message about being humble. People appreciate humbleness and that would really inflate my Ego. I tell my overbearing friend that I will do nothing of the sort because I modestly believe in writing for the sake of writing. As Confucius beautifully puts it, “He who speaks without modesty will find it difficult to make his words good.”

No. I am not going to listen to you, Ego.

I now feel rearing to go with a burning desire akin to what Alexander the Great must’ve felt when he practically took over the world. Almost as if waiting for the right time, my pal “Laziness” slaps me across the face and demands attention. I refuse to pay it any heed, instead I make sure to not needlessly drag this paragraph and continue writing, to make words, to make sentences, to make paragraphs, because paragraphs make writings and that is what I’m trying to do here and not at all dragging things along.

You’re not getting any attention from me, Laziness.

Tired and weary, I decide to have a conversation with my visiting friends. I let Self-doubt, Ego and Laziness know that they have no power over me and that I am a man who cannot be controlled, try as hard as you may. I am the master of my fate. I am the captain of my soul. They happily nod in unison and sing songs of praise for me.

In a schizophrenic bliss, I finally decide to stop typing.

© 2017 Eliazar

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Coyote Poetry

Fighting to open mind and thoughts to write. Hard sometimes. I use song and I read. My real muses for writing. I liked your thoughts and the perfect ending. I hope to read more of your work. Real life, strong and alive words and thoughts.
Coyote