This really is something I should do more often… Just brain dump it all out there. Idk why I don’t. I spend so much time thinking, analyzing, pondering, pontificating, that I forget just STARTING the thing is often the hardest part. But do I really forget that? I am consciously aware of it, often espousing the same advice to friends with similar struggles. Perhaps the issue is my self judgment (shocking, I know). Constantly critiquing myself for what I do or don’t do. However, I must state that the prevalence of this is beginning to lessen. I am, overall, giving vastly less amounts of consideration to the opinions of others or even my own damn negative self-assessments (since they were supplanted in my head by others). The opinions don’t matter much in the end anyway, dust to dust and ashes to ashes and all that jazz.

I also wonder about all the prolific writers and sentimentalists who created beautiful works of art and legacies that stretch out across several posthumous years. So many of them dulled their senses (i.e. voies in their head) with substances so that they could open the creative flood gates, thus birthing pieces like Howl and On the Road (re: see entire beat generation). Even now, it took ~2 glasses of wine to allow these words to flow. It’s not as if they don’t exist in me naturally, the stifling conundrum dies with these damn inhibitions… Always…… inhibiting me (lol). BUT I don’t want to be an alcoholic or require substances’ assistance just to create. I guess the question is, which do I care more about, my health or doing something creatively expansive with my life? The potentiality of a primarily unimpressive 85-90 years or a far shorter life with many things to show for it. Is the key just a glass or two when I need it to create? Perhaps I could avoid social drinking as a recompense (social pressure might be too high for this tradeoff, though).

It just felt so pointless to me (as many things often do). When you meta-analyze everything, at a certain point each instance, thought, and behavior are all reduced to absurdity anyway, such as drinking at social events with people I don’t care about who have near-zero interest in discussing anything remotely stimulating. And when they attempt, their takes are often half-baked regurgitations of something they perused on reddit while high. I’m so tired of this. I am often reduced to great weariness. I desire inspiration, to be around people who not only read but YEARN to discuss the contents of their word adventures. Those interested in partaking in salon-type parties, not spending $60 for three drinks at a bar that grants you a ticket to… speaking to the vastly uninteresting majority. I get this makes me sound arrogant. But god. My god have I spent far too much of my life apologizing for my opinions or side stepping contentious topics, or all together diminishing my light for the sake of others, their insecurity and discomfort (and for those who I don’t even have a reciprocal relationship with).

UGH.

The worst part of it all is that I know life is so much more than this. So much more than these empty and/or ultimately boring connections. So much more than the vapid self centered obsession society has cultivated with the help of social media. So much more… in general. I gotta keep trying though, what other choice do I have?

My life feels ultimately unfulfilling and empty punctuated by moments of brilliant closeness and connection, or adventure. But most of the time it’s just.. Dull. That’s the thing though, even if my everyday involves sitting at cafes watching people walk by in a city,,, even THAT beats being stuck in suburbia. Locked away in a little room in my version of suburban hell, only allowed out when a social event prompts my release.

P.S. the words of Dr. Edith Eger, holocaust survivor and psychologist, rings in my head as I reflect on all of this:

“The greatest prison that you’ll ever live inside is the prison that you create in your mind.”