I want to lead a more creative life. I feel like lately I have lost all sense of that part of my life, like I have become disconnected. I go day after day thinking of so many projects I want to pursue but shoot myself down for lack of time or energy. Slowly I feel like I’m losing faith in myself, that I can’t do everything I love and that makes me happy because I am sadly too busy worrying about jobs, money, cars, and spending more time daydreaming for things like apartments, puppies, journals, and more time for book reading and writing. Maybe it will turn around soon. Maybe I will figure it all out and one day everything will magically fall into place but at the moment my life is packed in boxes, ready to go to a house where I will have no peace for a few months.
I can feel it all again. The tingling and shaking in my hands that subsided three years ago when they finally gave me the official diagnosis of Lyme Disease. Here I sit today, typing on the computer for finals and I can’t seem to make my fingers go where I want them to. Click on that key, no not that one, delete, try again, you’ll get it next time. It seems like a silly thing to complain about, a silly little disease that people don’t know much about and really isn’t too harmful when caught early. But I possess the long term effects that I wish I could get rid of and the poor immune system that comes along with everything else. And I noticed today the scar had faded but now a new one is forming on my leg. Please, don’t let this be it.
It’s that wonderful time of the year where I have no idea what I’m doing with my life and I have so much stress I can’t seem to sit still or concentrate. I just want a nice, peaceful, relaxing week where I do nothing. Is that too much to ask for?
What if I did it? What if I took off into the woods and created my own Walden, have some peace and quiet like Thoreau did? $200 to my name, some paper, pens and books and off I went? I don’t want summer jobs or fancy trips, I want solitude. I want to write the stolen words that were taken from me in moments I was too busy focusing on something meaningless. And those words are becoming vaguer and harder to piece together in ways that flow and make sense. They all come out the same, like rants.And what about those stacks of books I have to neglect thanks to school work and constant distractions? I only have so much time to read them in this life.I’m haunted by giving up chances of creativity and losing them to jobs that will no long matter when I am 80 and I think to myself, “what have I done with my life?” I’m abandoning the same chances my parents abandoned years before only to come home everyday with the same zombie expression on their face and sad, “well I have to do it,” mindset. Money shouldn’t define my happiness but I am trapped in a world where that belief has been instilled.
“You must work to be happy,” they say.
“What are you going to do with that degree?” they ask.
“There’s no money in that.”
“You’re going to be miserable in your job.”
“There is no such thing as loving what you do.”
So what if I did?
I made this blog and now I’ve lost all my words. Maybe it’s the frustration of finals week or maybe it’s just the frustration of personal events but I can’t seem to organize my thoughts. I’m sure they’ll be back soon. I just have to be patient.
Well, I have decided to start a writing blog. The truth is I don’t really think I’m that good of writer. I have gone my whole life just scribbling down stories and people tell me I’m good at it but, it’s just something that I have always done and I have always been interested in. I’m starting this because lately I feel like if I don’t do something about it I’m going to go slightly mad. Hopefully whoever decided to read this will enjoy what I have to say.
