Oblivion.

My thoughts after an intense conversation with my parents about my writing and why the hell I haven't turned any of my ideas into anything tangible that could be published or made into some screenplay

I feel like a fake. I'm fooling myself, even. 

Despite all my struggles, I can't think of one decent idea I can turn into a book, or screenplay, or something. 

I'm trying, believe me, and when I come up with an idea, I jot it down immediately. But then, after a while of looking at these ideas, they start to turn into utter bullshit! I feel like bullshit. Like I've just been repeating other ideas by other writers that have been turning over these same hackneyed themes over and over again. 

I feel like a fake. Like my ideas wouldn't even matter if I turned them into something that was published due to the fact that somebody already turned it into something that would probably be better than anything I could ever turn that idea into. 

And this is what scares me. Not that there are writers better than me, but that there is nothing -- not one individual thought -- that is ever going to be completely original. 

Everything has been done. Every...single...thing.

Infinity is gone and oblivion is already upon us.

Reviews

[Timothy Burjess]

Grand Greetings Miss Gold.

Oh how horrid are the sensations that fleet over us when creativity looses its enchanting essence; leaving us as colourful shells devoid of interior hues - or perhaps a painter's palette that has been used and unwashed.
Compared to the English summers and the English people, oh how they moan all year about it being rainy and cold, then when the sun radiates over the verdant countryside meadows and beige sands stretching along the coastal shores, - the sea stupendously shimmering - the crowds flood to fields and beaches all over the country and absorb the ultra-violet rays like a baby absorbs the nutrients from mother's milk, yet they adopt a grimace after not so long in paradise and begin questioning the nature of their long-craved-for desire, for they begin to sweat, burn, and run to shade for it all becomes too much to bear; children too cry out of the stifling heat! Red raw and perspiring profusely, they begin to moan about the temperature, the humidity, and other such horrid climates that have afflicted their country and them as individuals - oh how they begin to miss the cooling rain and comfortable crackle of a calm coal fireplace keeping them warm inside their humble abodes. You see, this analogy serves as an explanation to the sensations we sometimes experience when we crave for something so, so much, then when it comes, it could not have been further from what we wanted or expected - nevertheless, when things have reverted back to original form, what do we do? - Yes, we go straight back to craving that which caused us such discomfort before.
As individuals who find pleasure, passion, and peace in intertwining script to form messages of mental-symbolic meaning, encountering these blocks seems like the sea to a path-finding neanderthal; 'sea? swim? me? no! neanderthal angry! neanderthal no more walk! must go back way came!' ect. ect. You get my gist.
Yes, indeed; the frustrating sensation of reduced clarity or inspiration is something no one even indefinitely wishes to experience, yet sometimes this happens, and it is up to each separate individual to understand that it does indeed happen ... it just simply does - just as one man may go to a riverside and catch forty-six fish in one sitting; pleasing his family for a month, then when returning to the exact seat a month later, ends up returning to his family that night with not even the minutest of sardines - such is the way with every single human sometimes - even to the extent of creative capacity. However, one must never loose zeal, for even the slighting inclination of the latter shall reduce the flare of the creative; reduce the amount of oxygen around an ignited match and the flame shall dim - suffocate the atmosphere and the flame with flicker a final dance, and die for eternity. This is the case for the creative type - oxygen the zeal one holds in regard to their path, the flame the right side of the brain.
What I have recently begun doing in regards to my own path, is basically taking a sabbatical from fiction, no; writing on a whole. I have not written any works for a good couple of months now. Why? Because I too almost came onto the same page as you, but I preordained that that was where I was headed - even with what I write. So yes, I am taking a break from my "future aspiration" as it were, plainly to live in the now - to dive into my introspective realm, in attempt to fully understand who I am as an individual - be it my physical nature and desires, mental constitution, and philosophical school of thought. You see, how is one supposed to fully justify what they say if they do not fully understand themselves? The man behind the mask can do what he likes while adopting a persona, yet when the Façade is dropped, he acts truly as himself, for acting the way he would as he does with the mask on would lead him down the path of unauthenticity - and he then ultimately is lying to himself as an individual he is not. THAT, is the reason why I am taking a break from my aspirations, for I do not want to find myself as an aged gentleman with a greying mustache, deeming my entire life as false ... a fallacy created only by myself. Those who continue to blindfold themselves shall only realize with their final breath that that had indeed been the case - I wish that upon no living entity.
Now, you speak in respect of the ideas that have been conceptualized at a prior date to the moment in which you materialized your own. Well, that too happens I'm afraid, but their lies no justified reasoning in despair or depression in response to this, for, you see, treat that sensation as a lesson - as proof of your own ability as an individual essence. That idea that formulated inside your mind, may have been done before, yet, does that not prove that you are just as capable as all others? The lesson to be learned? Well Lliza, you may have been beaten to the mark ... lost the battle ... crossed the line second ... yet what about that dastardly rabbit? Whatever happened to him after being beaten by that relaxed turtle beat him to it? Well ... he had a a good old sleep half way through the race, so ... while the turtle raced as fast and hard as he could to beat the rabbit, well ... the turtle shall be exhausted after the race, and shall have to sleep. Meanwhile, that rabbit, refreshed and raring-to-go, shall continue on after the race still ever faster than the turtle. Use your natural advantage of the present age to expand further than the ideas already formulated in ages past; - improve upon them, take the blueprints and blow them up to a larger scale, use abstraction to understand them in their entirety and delve into the reasoning and genius behind them - create the new age of creativity, using the knowledge and produce of the old ages as the foundations for a new and improved monolith of grand, sublime, and stupendous proportions.

In the words of good old Dr. Ian Malcolm, "If there is one thing the history of evolution has taught us it's that life will not be contained. Life breaks free, it expands to new territories and crashes through barriers, painfully, maybe even dangerously." Oh the pleasantries of nostalgia.

Keep on Mademoiselle Gold, you as an individual have such opportunity in creativity - so do all of us. Prove it to us all - but more importantly; to yourself, for the only thing that matters in respect of this life is your own capacity, your own aspiration, and your own life - thus is the same for every entity in this world, and nobody holds any justification to rule in or out of anyone else respectively.

[Iliza Gold]

Timothy,
I truly appreciate you taking time out to not only read my writing, but to write a review.
Let me start my response by saying that I am in complete and utter awe of you. You write with such incomparable diction. Your phrases are complex, yet somehow clear and easy to follow, and your writing (as a whole) flows like the practiced brushstrokes of an expert painter. I so enjoyed reading what you had to say, and what you had to say was absolutely brilliant. I understand completely, and I will certainly follow your advice.
You're a visionary, a true artist, and I thank you for your remarkable input.

Sincerely and respectively,
Iliza Gold

[Timothy Burjess]

No no no Mademoiselle Gold, the pleasure is all mine I assure you. Never before have I encountered a piece that has made me dive into myself such as this piece here - and take it from me that that is no easy feat ... well, until now an impossible feat. You see, the only persona capable of achieving such an effect on me ... is myself - and introverted hermit. Don't believe me? Check out the piece I just uploaded? Still don't believe me? Find any other piece I have uploaded that thanks another writer ... or even another writer's works! Believe me now? Good.

In awe of me? I would love to say "don't", but as your own individual self, you may find whatever you may out of everything you encounter. I only wish to respond such a way, for who am I in actual fact? Well, the majority would see ol' Timmy as a blurred picture alone, and what about the literary community? "Who, prey tell me, is Timothy Burjess?" they would cry. I imagine that shall be all I ever hear - yet, interestingly, what would you think if I was to say to you that that is what I would love to hear!

I love how you define my writing Miss Gold! When I started writing I worked hard to make my work complex, yet, some people find that when work is so over-the-top in terms of complexity, it just becomes so monotonous - I converted to one of those people very, very early on due to reading a piece I wrote. We all must find ourselves in every sense, for we can never truly be happy with anything we do until then, for we are lying to ourselved until that point - and who ever gets a kick out of lying in truth - ever met an astonishingly happy compulsive liar, whom is truly happy beneath their mask? I sure haven't!

You inflate my popped balloon of an ego with too much emphasis Mademoiselle Gold, but I do thank you for the compliments!

Stick in there my friend, every single one of us encounters these blocks - and if it's any consolation, I only just two weeks ago almost fell into the "chasm of despair" as I put it in the work you inspired me to write (of which I cheekily CTRL+C + CTRL+V'd and edited heavily), and that almost-fall is what inspired my writing on the importance of the individual up to now.

Too sincerely and respectively to a fellow writer who shares the abhorrent sensations we do so experience.

Timothy.