Before Ask, Yeah…

It has been three years since I finished my last novel. The time and space seems like forever ago, but the feelings and emotions still feel fresh. Every new day is a mixture of past experiences and freshly served shit. Life keeps piling it on whether I hide in the corners or throw myself into the mix. Years have pasted yet I feel the same. I still smoke too much, drink even more, and waste my time as if I have more to burn.

Ten years ago I was sixteen and ten years ago I still had much of the same dreams.  Ten years from now it will be the same. Only time and depression will change. If ten years from now I am where I am today what would have been the point of all of this? My thoughts are worthless yet I value them at a high price. I believe one day my thoughts will hold enough meaning to warrant me money for nothing, but they are only thoughts. Thoughts that no one gives a shit about. My point of view must be worthless in the end because they are all the same. “Sorry but you are not what we are looking for right now.”

Isn’t that the point? Shouldn’t You be looking to the future? If this, what I say is not “in,” isn’t that what you look for? Taking a chance on me could pay off. I might be the next big thing. In the end, I might be the greatest, but I’m not stupid. The rejections state that I am good, but really I am not. They mean to say give up. They mean to say you are an untalented, pathetic writer that no one cares about. Direct quote for my headstone.

The words used to motivate me because I thought they meant that I just wasn’t there yet. Lies I told myself to keep going. Lies that used to inspire now only hurt. They are little paper cuts across my face and hands. Little scars filled with poison. Little losses destroying what’s left of a heart that was already broken. I’m becoming more damned every day. Becoming normal in every way. I want to give up, but what’s the use? I’ll still feel the same as I did yesterday.

18 thoughts on “Before Ask, Yeah…”

  1. This is a heavy post…. Hopefully there’re things could cheer you up today…
    We always thought about dreams when we were young, but reality is dragging our feet…. Somehow, I believe there’re ways to work it out. Just need to find out.

    Liked by 3 people

  2. I had recurring periods of this mentality throughout my twenties. I lost my motivation to write because nobody ever read the stuff, stopped making art because people only seemed to care about the older, junkier stuff I did. I ended up doing the same thing every day for years.

    Then one day I realized a decade had gone by. How’s that for sobering, huh? It was only after that when I found this platform and started to grow.

    Growth is slow but use that time to feel around with your roots and see what kind of dirt fits your ideas best. Be a weed with the rest of us nuts. 😀

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Writing is a hard thing to do.
    No.
    Writing a novel is a hard thing to do. Writing is easy on a blog, because you get instant gratification. A novel… you work about 300 times harder, and wait about 20 times longer for any sort of gratification. Even a compilation of stories or pieces takes a lot of work to put together. I keep a check for $8 in my wallet, my profits from my efforts.
    So, I feel for you.

    Liked by 2 people

  4. Toast with butter is tasty. I personally like toast with PBJ. I grew up on the stuff. Saved my life even. Ummm… I guess what I’m saying is that it’s the simple stuff that brings about some pleasure… a semblance of happiness. We’ve all been here at some point in life. 😑

    Then I just take my toast… load on the peanut butter and grape jelly, crunch it… remembering a time that was not so good. Then I look out the window and see a bluejay perched on fence. I take another bite of my toast and smile.

    Hugs buddy!😊

    Liked by 2 people

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