How Writing Keeps Me Sane In a Fucked Up World
It ain't easy, babe.
The world's a crazy place. Anyone who says they have it figured out, has only figured out how to mask their insecurities. I'd avoid those people, if I were you.
Because no one, in the history of forever, has truly figured out what the hell we're doing here.
I'm not religious. I have faith, but not in god. Or, a god. Be it a bearded man in the sky, trident-wielding sea giant, or a giant woman, sitting on a throne, looking down on us from above. Honestly, all of those concepts make too much sense. If there is a higher power, chances are we couldn't even comprehend what it looks like.
Humans think they're so smart. But look at us, still squabbling over whether or not department stores should stock merchandise that doesn't sell — but should continue to sell anyway, because they have the endorsement of the President (this is really happening, folks). Why haven't we evolved into better versions of ourselves over, oh, the past several thousand years?
You think we'd learn from our mistakes; grow and encourage others to be better, do better, and make the world better for our future selves, and get our shit together!
A man can only do so much to keep himself sane through all this madness.
So, I write.
I write because it helps me think. Writing puts my thoughts onto a screen. Writing is a way for me to vent. To let go. Sometimes I write for others. And do quite well, I should add. Last year alone, I wrote several sales-related materials that generated several million dollars. Words be powerful, yo.
But often times I write for myself. Like, right now. I'm writing to let go. I'm writing because I'm mad, frustrated, angry, sad, and confused. Writing is the only way for me to find solace. I've attempted to seek therapy through others, and I'll continue to do so, but it's just not the same. Or I haven't found someone who I believe can satisfy me the same as writing does.
Not sure if that's a good or a bad thing.
It is what it is, as they say. The world's a fucked up place, but it doesn't have to be. You can live your life however you want. That's the beautiful thing about madness. Through chaos there's clarity. It breeds strength.
I often times think of ending it all. I think we all do, at one point or another. Not in a suicidal way, but in a "What if?" way.
- What if you were gone today, would you be happy?
- What if you didn't wake up tomorrow, would you go to sleep with a smile on your face?
- What if you weren't around no more... would anyone care?
I often poke and prod at different concepts. It helps me think. It stretches my imagination. It challenges me to see things in eyes that aren't my own.
Anyway, that's me getting a load of thoughts off my chest. They've been weighing me down. And I had nowhere else to release them. It's nice to let them go, even if it's just by typing words on a screen. At least I know someone is listening.
But if no one reads this, that's okay. Humans are selfish creatures. I did this for myself. I feel slightly better now than I did before I started writing this.
And like I said, I wrote this for me. Not you. Not even sure why you read this whole thing.
Are you okay?
P.S. Here's me with a baboon, because why the fuck not?