My creative writing professor was right when she said that it is possible that I people cannot find the strength to write in moments of pure bliss for there is a certain disregard for whatever was going wrong at the particular moment in time. Instead, it was replaced with feelings that encompasses, at least at that time, mere words and it was undoubtedly impossible to not simply live that moment instead of finding the words to relive it. It is also from her that I got the idea that it is very possible that I do, in fact, write at times of great anxiety and depression. The writing also comes whenever I am overwhelmed with such strong feelings of frustration or when I’m overcome by a great sense of loss. Putting aside whatever drives me to write, I’ve come to identify a particular pattern in my writing. I would not want to say that it usually comes at the instance of negative emotions for I do not want to categorize my writing as something that reflects the negative side of life. I do believe that at some point, there is hope in this (whatever this may be) and that as long as I am capable of jolting down my thoughts, regardless of whether or not it is a happy one, then I have a perfectly stable outlet of my feelings to some extent. However, at the event that I am not able to pin it in words, it seems that it greatly affects my daily life.
I’ve noticed that I have a tendency to spin out of orbit and lose track of all that I should be focusing on. Perhaps I can also partly blame my lack of proper sleep but mostly, I blame my cluttered mind for all that has been occuring for the past week or so. The difficulties that I have been encountering have all been set of by my own mind, a sort of trick disguised as a reaction to the loss of particular things. Indeed, my mind has been overanalyzing and overreacting to numerous things that I would not like to dwell upon at the moment. This is greatly reflected in the various prose that I have been busying myself for over a month now. It seems that in the creation of these works, I have come to greatly disregard my other tasks in effect, my total disregard for it now poses as an inconvenience. Had I not been greatly affected by things or had been sensitive to particularities, then I would not have encountered these things in the first place. True enough, I have become a wreck and I have been repeating this to myself for days now. I cannot deny myself the truth that I have fucked up, big time nor can I deny myself of the stupidities of my actions.
And so I would like to stop, for the good of a valuable number of people and of myself because this cannot continue. I do not want to be stuck in this great black hole that has engulfed me and blinded me from what I should truly be setting my eyes on. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, time waits for no one. In addition to that, people leave and yet, life goes on without stopping for anyone, most especially for anyone like me.
