And this time when kindness falls like rain, it washes me away...
...I think I'm done with fandom. Writing in it anyways. It's been so long since I've managed to write anything worthwile or been able to finish anything that I start.
And, in a way, it's started to feel creepy.
I've lived my life vicariously through the going ons in celebrity's lives for so long. I use to save legions of pictures of every single person I adored. And now I look upon them and ask myself why. I know minute details about random musicians lives yet I have very few friends. I cocoon myself inside our apartment when I'm not at work. And it's a high anxiety evening for me to spend time with anyone else but my daughter and girlfriend. That's just not healthy.
I can no longer find a voice to express their character. Nothing I ever imagine will match reality and it seems strangely intrusive to be so assuming about such details of another person's life. Others seem to come close... or, at least, they paint interesting pictures that could be anyone else but who they are suppose to be writing as...
Over the last couple months, I've battled quite a deal with what I'm pretty sure is untreated severe depression. I've had entire weeks or months wherein I've lost memory of my identy of self. I've woken up, so to say, driving down the road wondering: where the hell have I been?
Fandom, I think, has lost it's relavence to my life.
It actually kind of breaks my heart to say that. I've made so many friends... life long ones... in fandom. Friends that helped me survive the darkest points in my life.
Perhaps this is just another depressive episode, though slightly more coherant that ones of the past. Nothing's definite... but I've not found it in me in a while to bring pen to paper or fingers to keyboard in a manner than gave me more satisfaction than passing words between friends like conversation.
Sorry...
And, in a way, it's started to feel creepy.
I've lived my life vicariously through the going ons in celebrity's lives for so long. I use to save legions of pictures of every single person I adored. And now I look upon them and ask myself why. I know minute details about random musicians lives yet I have very few friends. I cocoon myself inside our apartment when I'm not at work. And it's a high anxiety evening for me to spend time with anyone else but my daughter and girlfriend. That's just not healthy.
I can no longer find a voice to express their character. Nothing I ever imagine will match reality and it seems strangely intrusive to be so assuming about such details of another person's life. Others seem to come close... or, at least, they paint interesting pictures that could be anyone else but who they are suppose to be writing as...
Over the last couple months, I've battled quite a deal with what I'm pretty sure is untreated severe depression. I've had entire weeks or months wherein I've lost memory of my identy of self. I've woken up, so to say, driving down the road wondering: where the hell have I been?
Fandom, I think, has lost it's relavence to my life.
It actually kind of breaks my heart to say that. I've made so many friends... life long ones... in fandom. Friends that helped me survive the darkest points in my life.
Perhaps this is just another depressive episode, though slightly more coherant that ones of the past. Nothing's definite... but I've not found it in me in a while to bring pen to paper or fingers to keyboard in a manner than gave me more satisfaction than passing words between friends like conversation.
Sorry...