Wednesday, May 25, 2016
Good thing I got my 500 daily words done yesterday morning because if I had to do them last night, I would have been fucked. I'm not in a much better frame of mind this morning.
I want to quit writing. I have no idea why I want to write. It's fucking painful. Oh, should I have warned you that there'd be lots of cursing. This shit just hurts too much. It is physically painful to think about writing. I have nothing to say. I'm irrelevant and boring and I can't figure out why I should bother.
Last night, I almost deleted my Facebook account. It's a good thing I have fairly strong impulse control. I'd be causing havoc all over the place if I didn't. The writing gurus are right, though. Committing to writing everyday and posting this bullshit - without qualification or excuses - helps to force me to do it even when I hate it - writing - and myself.
The disdain I have for my writing can't be expressed. I never want to put pen to paper again (yes, I still write like the ancients did) or put my fingers on another keyboard. But the white screen calls to me and I respond like an addict. I hate it. I hunger for it. The thought of it makes me ill and more depressed and hopeless. I have to have it. I have to have more. I obsess over it. It invades all of my thoughts and moments.
I'm writing a one thousand word story for a writing contest and it's stupid and fractured. It makes no sense. I have until the twenty-ninth to finish it and submit to the judges. I suppose I'll work on it today. Maybe I'll read it at my writing group tomorrow. It's so dumb though. My adjectives are trite and mundane. Dumb. Seriously. I could throw up right now.
One soul is living and dying in five different dimensions/lives, switching genders and time periods. In one thousand words. What was I thinking? Man, I'm desperate. I have nothing to say and so I'm saying dumb things.
If you came here to read this crap, I'm sorry. I should put another warning in the beginning that I would be wallowing in self-pity and boring you with my whining. It's getting harder and harder each day to bother with anything. Routine is the only thing getting me out of bed now. I think it's the thing that's killing me, too.
Doodling helps you reduce stress. I need a big doodle pad. People are coloring now. I remember when I got laughed at thirty years ago for coloring. Now, I'm really babbling. I've completely lost focus.
I went back up to write a disclaimer so I could say, "I warned you."
If you've read this far down, though, I seriously apologize.