You ever hit a brick wall and just feel like saying, “Fuck it?” That’s me right now.
I know I am a professional writer. I know I am good at what I do. I know this because I have made it this far in life and in my career to know that I am good at what I do.
What happens when good just isn’t cutting it anymore?
This. This is what happens. You sit here at your keyboard. You smack away at the keys trying to fill this void that is sitting on your face like a dog pile of human garbage and it isn’t going away. You have to yell and scream at this pile of shit sitting on your face and people will like it.
They will say that’s great! You’re doing it. Keep going!
They’ll say these things once and some will walk. And those who stand around watching do so silently and are ready to cheer when you’ve finally carved a hole through the shit and are able to take a breath. They’ll do this while a shovel is sitting next to them the whole time, but they just don’t notice it.
This article, my friends, is for you. These opening remarks are what its like to do this creative work. You are yelling into a void that has no answer. It doesn’t give a shit about you but you care so much for this featureless blob that you’ll doubt your own existence because it doesn’t respond to you.
The insanity is crushing and so is the depression.
I know this is partly my fault. In this world you’re told to front. You’re told to sell your shit like it is fucking gold. You can show some real, but too much, naw, no one wants to know why the clown is sad when he’s off stage. No one wants that. That’s what I’ve been fed most of life through sayings that were never based on fact to make a reality that never fucking existed.
No one should function like this, and frankly, I’m done doing it. I’m done pretending, because doing that has only gotten me one thing: Depression. I get that bowl of crap every few weeks when my filters overflow and cannot handle the fronting I’ve been doing.
I pray, of course, but frankly without a reaction from my actions it just feels useless. When Mother Teresa died, her journal chronicled the silence she heard from God. She never lost faith in her work or him. Thing is though, she wasn’t trying to sell books or pay a mortgage. The weight of silence can be crushing and it will punch you into the ground.
Working in isolation is bullshit.
To you, to those of you reading this, I have to tell ya that if you know someone who makes and does things to feel fulfilled in their life and they aren’t really updating you as to what they’re doing; ask them how they’re doing. It can be in any format, but realize that when we post something up online we are jazzed and I am glad you are jazzed too. When we aren’t and we’re just struggling to get through the day, it’s nice to know people still care even when we’re not riding high on the horse.
Of course, you’ll never know this unless we tell you. That’s on us and the culture of sounding confident and faking it till you make it is complete bullshit. You’ll never hear that from me again. I’m done.
I don’t know if anyone will read this, frankly, I don’t care. I’m writing this for myself and for some of you out there feel this too.
I’ll be back with more of your semi-regularly scheduled fun times.