love is the answer to a deceptively simple riddle
So somewhere along the line I stopped writing everything that came to my mind. I can't even speculate as to all the ideas, all the thoughts, all of the clever rhymes and phrases that I conjured up and are now gone due to my inaction. I've decided that I need a new project, preferably something that has to do with writing, but I wonder what that could be, or if I would even be up to it. I am just very uncomfortable with the loss of all of these ideas I still have running through my head. I feel idle, and unused. Maybe there's a better word for it than unused, but that is what it feels like. Something I always used to say was that my creativity has atrophied, and I believe that is probably the most accurate word possible to describe the decaying of my desire to be creative.
I guess what bothers me the most is that in growing up I feel like I've lost so much, and not gotten much in return. Part of it seems to be the desire, no the expectancy, of greatness I and others around me had for myself when I was younger. Everybody expects to achieve greatness, but if that were to happen, greatness would be mediocrity. Is it also true that happiness and self fulfillment are also relative? Why is it that I have to compare myself to others to determine if I have achieved such greatness? Well, perhaps I don't need to explicitly compare myself to others, the feeling I have of wasting away, of wasting away my talent, doesn't have anything to do with anybody else. All I know are there are these thoughts, and these thoughts are wasted. This is what saddens me. I feel like I am trying to solve some maddeningly difficult riddle when I ask myself what it is that I had when I was younger, that I have since lost as an adult. Well maybe it's not a riddle, and maybe it's not that I can't find the answer to it, but that I cannot yet accept it. I now feel what it is that seems like common knowledge, that as I become older I become more resistant to learning new things. I worry constantly about being outsmarted by others when I used to be so full of wit and grand ideas.
The first thing I need to do is find a focal point. All of this writing without focus is taking me farther from where I feel like I should be. So that's it, right? Purpose. Something relevant. One word comes to mind. Love.
(Why is it that I feel like everything I am going to write after that one word is going to be so insignificant?)
(I don't know if this is progress, or what progress looks like.)
I guess what bothers me the most is that in growing up I feel like I've lost so much, and not gotten much in return. Part of it seems to be the desire, no the expectancy, of greatness I and others around me had for myself when I was younger. Everybody expects to achieve greatness, but if that were to happen, greatness would be mediocrity. Is it also true that happiness and self fulfillment are also relative? Why is it that I have to compare myself to others to determine if I have achieved such greatness? Well, perhaps I don't need to explicitly compare myself to others, the feeling I have of wasting away, of wasting away my talent, doesn't have anything to do with anybody else. All I know are there are these thoughts, and these thoughts are wasted. This is what saddens me. I feel like I am trying to solve some maddeningly difficult riddle when I ask myself what it is that I had when I was younger, that I have since lost as an adult. Well maybe it's not a riddle, and maybe it's not that I can't find the answer to it, but that I cannot yet accept it. I now feel what it is that seems like common knowledge, that as I become older I become more resistant to learning new things. I worry constantly about being outsmarted by others when I used to be so full of wit and grand ideas.
The first thing I need to do is find a focal point. All of this writing without focus is taking me farther from where I feel like I should be. So that's it, right? Purpose. Something relevant. One word comes to mind. Love.
(Why is it that I feel like everything I am going to write after that one word is going to be so insignificant?)
(I don't know if this is progress, or what progress looks like.)