I
I’ve been dreaming all of my life, for a better life. But I have been writing all my life, only to find that I’m still writing. Maybe what I’m really doing is investing in being heard- and finding that I haven’t been. This sounds depressing but its illuminating for me.
I’ve dabbled with thoughts of suicide, but they meander and tease within these bouts of mania and depression. Pathetic? Perhaps. But nonetheless I remain self-aware.
I lost my dad 3 years ago, and since have felt lost in life. He was my best friend and mentor. Perhaps I died with him- and in this respect ghosts do exist. I dropped out of law school to pursue my “passion” for writing- and now wonder, did I waste time in law school, or did I waste time writing?
Three scripts later, and a bunch of freelance gigs, have left me working part-time jobs that barely pay the rent. I know everyone does it, everyone struggles- but if this were my passion, wouldn’t I be more patient?
I saw this video recently, of this ant colony that moved 50 tons of soil to create this massive underground network. They compared the size and detail of the project to the Great Wall of China. To think, all these little creatures work together to have their home pumped with cement- just so we could understand how amazing they are. These mini miracles happen everyday, right beneath our feet. How can a creature, barely the size of my eyelash- have already completed a lifetime achievement? Ants are born with jobs and born into homes, their community is permanent. Perhaps I am jealous of the ant. I sit in a dark room day to day, and try to put characters- also the size of ants, onto a screen. I wait until these characters project my vision, and then hope that they are seen.
But even if they are seen, they never really are.
Words and stories are a dime a dozen these days, and while I am ant-sized in this giant world- I could never complete or even fathom a creation made by ants.
Perhaps God’s thumb can squish me, so I can start all over again.
Thoughts and Stuff 