Day 158

500 Words, Day 158.

I really liked yesterday’s post. Good posts make me feel like a writer. Today I stare at a blank page and have no idea what to write. It makes me feel like an imposter. Like someone who wants to write, or to be a writer. What’s the difference? Well, a writer writes, right? And someone who wishes to write doesn’t write. For some strange reason, he only wishes to write. Does he not know how to express what he wants to write? What she wants to write? I mean, if you can think I don’t see why you couldn’t write. That’s what I tell myself. And so, I write. Very randomly, but I write. For example, yesterday I started my post by saying the same thing, that I admitted I had no idea what I was doing. That very thought brought me to the idea that we all have no idea what we’re doing here, and yet… so much is getting done. So, so much is being done at every second of the day. Life never stops. Why are we doing all of this? Don’t ask me, like I said, I don’t even know why I write. All I know is I want to write, and since I don’t want to be a wannabe, I’ve decided to write. Maybe it makes no difference, maybe it does. I suspect it does. Maybe I’m still me, and I still have to go to work tomorrow, and I still have to deal with the stress of whatever life throws my way. In the same way though, maybe you read this and feel inspired. Maybe not this post, but maybe one that I wrote on a better day. I mean, this is Day 158. At 500 words a day, I hope at least some of what I’ve written so far has been of value to those who have read it. In fact, I’m sure it has. At the same time, at times I’m afraid to write. I might not be writing for millions, but every mind we influence is important. It’s important because every person is valuable and important, but also because every person will go on to influence hundreds, who will then do the same. This is how life moves, how it continues, how we grow, and how we eventually evolve. We have to share what we have, so if all that I have right now is this then this is what I’ll give. God knows I’m not perfect, and some days I think I’m fucked up beyond repair. Anxiety, depression, fear of death and pain and losing love. I have to constantly remind myself that this is normal, that it just comes with being human. I’m sure years of weed abuse, psychedelic trips, reading philosophy, and alienating myself from most of the world hasn’t helped much, not to mention my family’s very religious background. At times, life feels way too real to live, something overwhelmingly uncomfortable, alien and strange. In a way though, the same introspection that I’m sure has contributed my anxiety, has also enriched my inner world a thousandfold in ways I don’t even know how to begin to describe. Although a lot of the world might not understand me, I know that my anxiety and fear of death or the unknown that follows it is only a product of my immense love for life and all it could possibly mean or represent. I’m happy with that realization, and it makes me feel like I’m on the right track, even if my life might be more complicated.

Thanks for reading, much love.