I haven't wanted to write for a very long time. I think about writing all the time. I can't say I love doing it, but I feel a connection to it. I don't know why. I don't know where it comes from; I just know that I don't have another appropriate outlet for getting the thoughts out of me. I experience a great deal of anxiety when I write because I haven't quite mastered the art of not giving a fuck what people think about me and the thoughts in my head just yet. YET.
The last few years though, I sit down to write and the only thing that comes out is overly-sentimental crap. It really is utter drivel. I admit it fully. I am capable of being a writer, but I haven't been a very good one - at least not in the more personal, intimate, authentic way. I used to need writing to heal me. I used to need it to explain the crippled stories of my past. I felt like I needed to articulate the beginning of me in order for people to understand the now of me. But, fuck it. I don't need those stories to be told anymore.
I just don't have anything else to talk about at the moment because I apparently decided to live a much more sheltered life than I initially intended. Hooray.
So, I stopped doing it. I stopped writing. I stopped reading. Essentially, I gave up. I accepted defeat only because I convinced myself that, for the time being, I wasn't meant to be writing. I was supposed to be focusing on another creative outlet. Only, I never figured out what that other outlet was supposed to be and so instead, I just spent a lot of time watching OTHER people be really brave and creative and entertaining.
It's amazing what you can convince yourself to do when you feel lost and the overriding emotion in your life more than 100% of the time is fucking fear.
I stopped believing in myself (though, to be fair, I'm not sure I've ever really believed in myself properly). I gave up on the idea of magic and silliness and wonder. I stopped seeing the possibilities in the cracks and adopted the skeptical cynicism of a curmudgeonly old hag.
And that cynicism gets harder and harder to shake off the older you get and the more fucked up the world around you gets. I want to have faith and believe in the things I cannot see. I REALLY want to believe.
I've managed to unlearn a lot of things over the course of my life, but I've got no clue how to unlearn derision and relearn the hope of endless possibilities. Faith isn't something that can be taught. You literally have to choose it over anything else.
I was watching one of Josie Long's first stand-up shows recently, and she invented a term that I have decided to adopt for myself. She was telling a story about visiting a bakery in Australia and mentioned being a weirdo but being sincere in her actions despite that awkwardness - thus creating the concept of a sinceredo. A sincere weirdo. It's the most apt term to describe me to date.
So, while I may not have any idea how to let go and choose faith or if I'll ever get to a place where I write words that aren't complete shit, at least I feel a little more connected to my place in this world.