It’s funny how I was believing that writing was a salvation from drowning or being destroyed by reality, and i haven’t had the ability to write anything or want to write anything for a while now.
Check the journal, you can see the rants haven’t been there — they’ve been snippets here and there, not much more. In some cases they’ve been a few paragraphs, but the substance? What has the substance been?
Words, feelings, worries, blah blah blah blah blah.
I’m in a rut, no thanks to life as I know it an my health making life shit for me. I’m in a rut even trying to do what I know I am capable of doing. Self doubt, maybe procrastination… they are both stifling what I used to covet.
And of course the lack of creativity right now… The lack of a market… The lack of some push from something or someone special…
I feel like I am oblivion incarnate, or perhaps the embodiment of what is wrong with this world. I need some time – or a vacation from my life, from myself… from my worries and doubts… Maybe I just nee d a trip to Euphoria again? Happiness seems like such a distant land, even though I can find contentment shooting the shit up with some of my friends.
Maybe that’s all I should be relying on now? The little help from my friends when my Friends need a little help from my humor? There’s got to be more to my life though — I couldn’t stay sane with just that alone…. Though I am edging insanity as is.