Does it ever get easier
I've been in such an incredible writer's block for the past year. Or is it life block. Same thing. Art draws from truth, which is your life. When your life starts grinding to a halt, waking up in the morning becomes pretty terrifying.
I had to turn my music off to write. I can't find the words with noises going on.
Everything in my life has become so difficult. I simply never expected it to get this hard. It just keeps getting harder and harder, I'm sure of it. I know I had a great childhood. I had stresses and frustrations and I hated getting up in the morning and I was always late and every teacher would give me naughty looks but you know, that's never come back to haunt me. There was nothing lost at all for going to class late, for 16 years. It was a cakewalk. Everyone just kept blessing me and blessing me. My teachers loved me. Kids loved me. Narcissistic? You weren't there. Life loved me. It really wasn't that bad at all.
This thing I'm doing now... this isn't what I expected at all. I talked with Jon from the band, and he told me how terrified he was of his old high school friends who gave up.
I won't be one of those people, because I'm only 23 and I'm already terrified. But right now, at this moment, I don't know what to do. I have nothing to write about myself, I'm not interesting anymore. I don't meet women anymore, I'm not engaging. I'm not athletic. I'm not attractive. It's these kind of thoughts that people refer to as a downward spiral, but I'm not depressed. I'll never grant myself that. I've seen some seriously depressed people before, and I've seen some people deal with trauma. I'm not one of them.
It's easy, really. I'm just weak. I was raised weak. I was raised to think wit was wisdom. I'm so goddamn witty that I could weasel my way out of any system... school, work, family, friends, as long as someone had my back. Now nobody has my back, and I don't brush my teeth. Nobody has my back, and I drink on weekdays. Nobody has my back, and I stop working out. Nobody has my back, and I don't meet girls. Nobody has my back, and I watch weird porn. Nobody has my back, and I don't cook. Nobody has my back, and I don't write. Nobody has my back, and I become uninspired. Nobody has my back, and I become cantankerous.
Cantankerous is the right word. Bitter without humor. And weak is what I am. Unable to accomplish my goals without significant unreturned favors. I'm still late. And I still tell people that I care. And I still find excuses.
I'm not even going to say here that I'm going to fix it all here and now. This is march, not the new year. I'm not even going to make it better. I'm not even writing this to get sympathy.
The real reason I'm writing this is because I've written nothing else, and I'm not going to get over my writer's block until I can write this much, because this is all I can think about. This is all that's on my mind. This is my truth. This is my only perspective. Until I can identify with this, I can write nothing else.
The other reason, the fake PS reason I'm writing this, is that I can't believe I'm alone. I know for a fact that nearly everyone I know that's 23 or 24 right now is going through this in one form or another. Sure, someone out there 23 might have a fullbright scholarship and is developing medical equipment logistical transport in rural New Guinea, but we hate them, each and every one.
So for all of you out there to whom this sounds oddly familiar, sound it out. You're not alone. Life was never supposed to be that easy. It's supposed to be hard. So lets get it done, and try not to fuck it all up. Maybe one day I'll record it and all of us sad fucks will request it on 94.7 NRK and help make me as famous as hobo spiders.
The real guitar sap shit:
As we walk to the edge of the fountain
you alone are staggering in
And as I hold your head underwater
I wonder why you're struggling still
Cause I have taken the parts worth living
sown them under my skin
As we walk to the edge of the fountain
maybe this time It'll sink in
But then
I wonder
When will it
stop
Getting Harder
Getting Harder
So I
Smoke
a little
Maybe I
Drink too much
Maybe I
die a little
But you'll never see me
cry
I had to turn my music off to write. I can't find the words with noises going on.
Everything in my life has become so difficult. I simply never expected it to get this hard. It just keeps getting harder and harder, I'm sure of it. I know I had a great childhood. I had stresses and frustrations and I hated getting up in the morning and I was always late and every teacher would give me naughty looks but you know, that's never come back to haunt me. There was nothing lost at all for going to class late, for 16 years. It was a cakewalk. Everyone just kept blessing me and blessing me. My teachers loved me. Kids loved me. Narcissistic? You weren't there. Life loved me. It really wasn't that bad at all.
This thing I'm doing now... this isn't what I expected at all. I talked with Jon from the band, and he told me how terrified he was of his old high school friends who gave up.
I won't be one of those people, because I'm only 23 and I'm already terrified. But right now, at this moment, I don't know what to do. I have nothing to write about myself, I'm not interesting anymore. I don't meet women anymore, I'm not engaging. I'm not athletic. I'm not attractive. It's these kind of thoughts that people refer to as a downward spiral, but I'm not depressed. I'll never grant myself that. I've seen some seriously depressed people before, and I've seen some people deal with trauma. I'm not one of them.
It's easy, really. I'm just weak. I was raised weak. I was raised to think wit was wisdom. I'm so goddamn witty that I could weasel my way out of any system... school, work, family, friends, as long as someone had my back. Now nobody has my back, and I don't brush my teeth. Nobody has my back, and I drink on weekdays. Nobody has my back, and I stop working out. Nobody has my back, and I don't meet girls. Nobody has my back, and I watch weird porn. Nobody has my back, and I don't cook. Nobody has my back, and I don't write. Nobody has my back, and I become uninspired. Nobody has my back, and I become cantankerous.
Cantankerous is the right word. Bitter without humor. And weak is what I am. Unable to accomplish my goals without significant unreturned favors. I'm still late. And I still tell people that I care. And I still find excuses.
I'm not even going to say here that I'm going to fix it all here and now. This is march, not the new year. I'm not even going to make it better. I'm not even writing this to get sympathy.
The real reason I'm writing this is because I've written nothing else, and I'm not going to get over my writer's block until I can write this much, because this is all I can think about. This is all that's on my mind. This is my truth. This is my only perspective. Until I can identify with this, I can write nothing else.
The other reason, the fake PS reason I'm writing this, is that I can't believe I'm alone. I know for a fact that nearly everyone I know that's 23 or 24 right now is going through this in one form or another. Sure, someone out there 23 might have a fullbright scholarship and is developing medical equipment logistical transport in rural New Guinea, but we hate them, each and every one.
So for all of you out there to whom this sounds oddly familiar, sound it out. You're not alone. Life was never supposed to be that easy. It's supposed to be hard. So lets get it done, and try not to fuck it all up. Maybe one day I'll record it and all of us sad fucks will request it on 94.7 NRK and help make me as famous as hobo spiders.
The real guitar sap shit:
As we walk to the edge of the fountain
you alone are staggering in
And as I hold your head underwater
I wonder why you're struggling still
Cause I have taken the parts worth living
sown them under my skin
As we walk to the edge of the fountain
maybe this time It'll sink in
But then
I wonder
When will it
stop
Getting Harder
Getting Harder
So I
Smoke
a little
Maybe I
Drink too much
Maybe I
die a little
But you'll never see me
cry