I've watched Dawn of the Dead 5 times in the past 3 days.
Why?
Because it's on.
I have been completely devoid of anything creative for... months now. My art is nonexistant, I start something and hate it automatically then either erase it or just leave it lying there. My writing, don't even go there. I started a fantastic Douglas Adams-esque peice months back, but since then any work I try to add to it is shit.
The weird thing is, I'm not completely unhappy with my lack of creativity.
I have become a bored, boring creature who does nothing day in and day out. I sit in the same spot each day. In front of a laptop screen that isn't mine in front of a TV on a dirty futon. I'd like to say I'd be doing something if I were allowed my former road-freedom, but I know I'd be lying. There is nowhere left to drive here. The few friends I believe like me have jobs, or babysit most of the time. I'd catch up with old friends, but I'm terrified we'll sit in the awkward silence from the distance high school creates. A good friend told me on my second or so day of high school, "High school makes you monotone." I've always laughed at that, thinking it a nod to Daria or just a common teen saying expressing 'hatred' for schooling. But not tonight. Tonight it means something. Did high school rob me of my creativity? Did it make me willing to sit around and waste my youth each day? I don't know. I'm looking for anything to blame but myself.
I must say, for the most part I have led a charmed life. I have three parents who love me to death. I shove masses of junk down my throat and I lose weight. I get basically any material thing I want sooner or later. (But typically sooner.) I get in trouble, my mom blinks it away in a couple of days, though I do walk on eggshells for a bit, then I return to my bitchy 'unhappy' self. I have many pets. I have a car. I have an amazing boyfriend.
But still I find the urge to walk around as if life truly hates me. Why is this? I stumble around in a disgusting stupor day to day disgusted with humanity, but in love with nature. I claim "my life sucks". But I have no proof of that. I claim that nothing goes my way. But really, I'm just a lazy, spoiled teenager.
So why do I do it? Why do I complain? Why do I try to make my life out to be more terrible than it is?
Because. I want it. I have always wanted something to truly be wrong with me. Crazy, depressed, whatever. I want it. It's sick, I'm aware. But I can't explain it. I want to be the person in the movies that has something interesting to tell. Some fucked up childhood or something. (In all honesty, I can not remember the large majority of my own childhood.) They're so god damned INTERESTING. I want to be interesting. I want to be the crazed interesting. Its so hard to explain.
Maybe it's because I want to be a well-known and remembered novelist. It would give me something to write about. People would read it and go "Wow. This person's life was messed up. Did this actually happen?" Someone would make a movie of it, it'd be a best seller, I don't know. Playing off of America's sadistic nature.
Or maybe it just boils down to the fact that I need attention.
I want it.
I want people to like me, I want people to notice me.
The only thing I'm sure of about myself is that I want people to like and remember me.
The rest, I can never tell. Is it another trait I made up, or is it really me? Is it all made up? Is it all me?
I don't know.
But that's life.
Uncertainty.
Because it's on.
I have been completely devoid of anything creative for... months now. My art is nonexistant, I start something and hate it automatically then either erase it or just leave it lying there. My writing, don't even go there. I started a fantastic Douglas Adams-esque peice months back, but since then any work I try to add to it is shit.
The weird thing is, I'm not completely unhappy with my lack of creativity.
I have become a bored, boring creature who does nothing day in and day out. I sit in the same spot each day. In front of a laptop screen that isn't mine in front of a TV on a dirty futon. I'd like to say I'd be doing something if I were allowed my former road-freedom, but I know I'd be lying. There is nowhere left to drive here. The few friends I believe like me have jobs, or babysit most of the time. I'd catch up with old friends, but I'm terrified we'll sit in the awkward silence from the distance high school creates. A good friend told me on my second or so day of high school, "High school makes you monotone." I've always laughed at that, thinking it a nod to Daria or just a common teen saying expressing 'hatred' for schooling. But not tonight. Tonight it means something. Did high school rob me of my creativity? Did it make me willing to sit around and waste my youth each day? I don't know. I'm looking for anything to blame but myself.
I must say, for the most part I have led a charmed life. I have three parents who love me to death. I shove masses of junk down my throat and I lose weight. I get basically any material thing I want sooner or later. (But typically sooner.) I get in trouble, my mom blinks it away in a couple of days, though I do walk on eggshells for a bit, then I return to my bitchy 'unhappy' self. I have many pets. I have a car. I have an amazing boyfriend.
But still I find the urge to walk around as if life truly hates me. Why is this? I stumble around in a disgusting stupor day to day disgusted with humanity, but in love with nature. I claim "my life sucks". But I have no proof of that. I claim that nothing goes my way. But really, I'm just a lazy, spoiled teenager.
So why do I do it? Why do I complain? Why do I try to make my life out to be more terrible than it is?
Because. I want it. I have always wanted something to truly be wrong with me. Crazy, depressed, whatever. I want it. It's sick, I'm aware. But I can't explain it. I want to be the person in the movies that has something interesting to tell. Some fucked up childhood or something. (In all honesty, I can not remember the large majority of my own childhood.) They're so god damned INTERESTING. I want to be interesting. I want to be the crazed interesting. Its so hard to explain.
Maybe it's because I want to be a well-known and remembered novelist. It would give me something to write about. People would read it and go "Wow. This person's life was messed up. Did this actually happen?" Someone would make a movie of it, it'd be a best seller, I don't know. Playing off of America's sadistic nature.
Or maybe it just boils down to the fact that I need attention.
I want it.
I want people to like me, I want people to notice me.
The only thing I'm sure of about myself is that I want people to like and remember me.
The rest, I can never tell. Is it another trait I made up, or is it really me? Is it all made up? Is it all me?
I don't know.
But that's life.
Uncertainty.