2am. One would almost think that I’m avoiding these self-imposed writing assignments.
Truly, the writing has become lazy and unfocused. Daily diary entries ranging from 150-400 words. I spend more time writing about the writing I’m not doing than I do doing it. Does that make sense?
It doesn’t matter. I’m going to publish it anyway.
I’ve stopped editing, stopped even bothering to take a second glance before hitting that “publish” button and sharing my words with the world, at least in the sense of being available to the public. I doubt there are many people reading, because I haven’t taken the time to promote myself and share this project with friends. In a way, I don’t want them to see it. It’s become an outlet for apathy rather than a celebration of my stories.
Where are those stories?
Today, I spent some time looking through my photos and videos from the first 72 days of 2023. It’s so odd; I feel stagnant as ever, bored and boring. I perceive myself as someone who accomplishes very little and rarely gets out. Half the time, I write about myself and my experiences as if I’m a nobody, listlessly floating through the world with only a vague awareness off what’s going on around me. Yet my camera roll shows otherwise.
72 days into the year, I’ve already been to my first Burn, worked at a destination music festival AND a small one-day festival in a trendy art space, hitch hiked, gone diving in the Florida Keys, been to the Renaissance Festival, helped my parents move their business over the course of 2 weeks, and visited with two of my best friends that flew in from out of state on separate occasions. All while living next to the beach. Heck, the first few hours of 2023 were spent at a cool Burner house party in Miami, complete with multiple DJs, art installations, and fire spinners.
That should be enough, right?
Right?
For whatever reason, it’s not. I still feel this sense of emptiness and discontentment. I’m not unhappy, I’m just not feeling blissful. Compared to the lofty expectations set for myself, my mood feels downright underwhelming. It’s almost like I’m not feeling anything at all, sometimes.
Maybe I set the bar too high for myself. Or maybe my dissatisfaction and feeling of stagnation is something that comes from within. I can go through the motions all I want, leaping at this opportunity and that, jumping on planes whenever life feels uncomfortable, but nothing will ever fix the feeling of being incomplete within my own soul. No, I’m going to have to do something about that on my own.
I’m going to have to decide that I want to change something, and then change it.
