Clearing Out the Rubble to Make Way for the Stories- Day 2

Another Brain-Dump. My hope is that by dumping everything in the open, I can eventually bring back the stories that used to play in my head.

I’m exhausted. I feel like I’ve been carrying around a massive load of weight and I’ve taken a break. The weight definitely has not been lifted. Let’s not get too cheery here. 

I still don’t know what I want to do. 

Do I switch programs to be with a hoard that is very much like myself but has an outcome that may not benefit the family, or do I push through the program I’m in and remain miserable for a year and a half, barely passing my classes because what they’re teaching is the opposite of what I want to do with my life. 

I’m beginning to understand that everything working out in a synchronized manner in the beginning was an illusion. It made me think that I was exactly where I was supposed to be when really it was a decoy to set me on a fucked up path. 

A fucked up, expensive path. That may not lead to anything decent when it comes to a career.

I’m so tired.

I feel like I could make that statement a thousand times and it wouldn’t come close to getting across just how tired I actually am right now. I think I may crumble into dust soon.

I don’t want to make a video portrait or build a magazine issue. I don’t want to photograph or design anything. I’m no good at that and everything I do is garbage. 

I want to know the strategies, the research, the concepts so I can tell other people how to make their content. I don’t want to make my own content anymore. Those days are long past and I was never good at it to begin with.

Occasionally I day dream of making a BookTube channel again. If I had stuck to that five years ago, then I would probably be successful by now.. but I’m to self-conscious for that s**t. 

I also can’t force myself to be bubbly and outgoing like those people can. I never thought I would envy sociopaths, but here we are…

I fully understand that you have to step out of your comfort zone to get places.. but I did that with coming to school. I did that with forcing my family to live on next to nothing so I can get that stupid piece of paper that determines the amount you get paid despite how quickly you learn on the job or how hard you work.

That’s enough discomfort for me. I don’t want anymore. I just want to be able to sit at my desk everyday and put words onto the screen. Make others feel things. 

I have stories to tell, I just have to dig them up.

Pull them out of the rubble of my mental war zone. That sounds stupid. Oh well.

The only way I can think to access them again is to write everyday. I used to be so creative. I used to be able to come up with scenarios and short stories without thinking much at all. They would just be there.

Then my mind decided to take that talent and turn it against itself. Using that storytelling to create false scenarios about real people. Real things that could happen or that have happened before. Leaving me sad and tired and afraid to leave the confines of my own home some of the time. 

I don’t know how else to fix it except to write everything. Put everything onto paper that is plaguing me. 

Bleed the poison out until there is nothing but light remaining. 

Maybe this mixed with rekindled love for reading will fix me again. Make me less sad. Give me the ability to smile again and not feel like I’m wearing a mask.

Or

Maybe it’s just a temporary venture. One that leaves me sad and crushed at the end after realizing that it won’t get me anywhere. 

I guess that I can only hope that it sticks. Lord knows, nothing else has.

Maybe this is where I’m supposed to be.

Or 

Maybe I’m just batshit insane.

I don’t know anymore.

What I do know, is that I need to clean the litter-box, draw myself a bath, and crack open a good easy book. Something that won’t take long to finish so I can keep building my momentum.

Yesterday was the first book that I’ve finished in close to two years. 

I realized how much I miss that feeling. The feeling of coming to the end of something. I used to read so much. It was such a good escape from the life I was living. 

So that’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to keep writing everyday and keep reading until the stories come back. 

Once they do, nothing is going to stop me.