I’m terrified that my life is going to fall into a quiet contentment that will lead to me disappearing into obscuria. For the majority of my adult life, I’ve felt like I was gathering experiences and hardships that were necessary to fuel true creative talent. I’ve always seen myself as one day rising above the dreary day to day and breaking out into the limelight. These days, I can see myself slipping into a life of mere comfort, working my boringly easy job, coming home to my boringly easy to prepare food and watching television until it is time to go to sleep. It’s a tempting fate because there is no risk, no hardship, no real failure. It would be a simple and quiet life, alone with my dog.
I’m horrified at how easy it would be to allow myself to fall into that trap.
I’m a worrier, constantly planning for every possible apocalypse to come around the bend and wash away the status quo. I spend hours a day thinking about how I would survive if the government suddenly shut down, or if some horrible sickness wiped out 70% of the world’s population. Disaster after disaster plays out in my mind in some of the most bizarre and demented scenarios. The only thing that I can never truly foresee is myself having any sort of real success. I don’t believe in myself enough to think that I could amount to anything in this world without some sort of insane happenstance rocketing me into a position I was fated for. I can’t believe in a future where I did anything for myself, because I can barely do anything for myself now.
I don’t know where I’m going, and I don’t know how to get there. I don’t have a real plan, and I don’t even know where to start one. I alleviate some of my fears and anxieties by writing for this blog, but even here I generally feel like a failure. Most days I don’t know what I’m writing about. I find writing challenges and creative prompts from a myriad of sources, just so I can have a focused direction.
I only keep going because I’m afraid that if I stop, and let myself live a life unexamined by people who know how to live, that I will fall back into the habits that I had once upon a time. I can see myself easily going back to being that loner hermit that chooses to buy pills and cigarettes over food. I can see myself in that hovel of an apartment, hiding from myself the shame I feel for living like an animal most of the time. These days there are people that rely on me to be able to get even a little bit by. I get up and go to my job and do my work because if I don’t, then someone else would pay a horrible price for my laziness and fear of the outside world. I don’t know how to push myself to make my life better. I am still just a little emo kid waiting to be given everything without any work.
That’s why I’m here, writing this. It is my sincere hope that I can learn to make myself a better man, and that by putting it out there, I will have more people that will rely on me to fulfill that promise.
That’s my confession, here at the end of this 10 days of writing:
No matter how far I climb, or hard I work; No matter how much improvement I show to the outside world, I still loathe myself.
All you need to motivate you to become someone else is to hate who you are and realize you should do something about that.