I had the worst week of my life.
My week was so shitty that it had me reminiscing my whole existence. You’ll just have to follow the ride, i guess.
I was always an imaginative kid, that had thousands of journals and used to fill them up with so much stuff that my parents recall giving me a new notebook every week. I used to document every single feeling i had, every single blink of an eye my stupid childhood classroom crush used to blink and every single heartbreak i used to have when none of these dudes matched the idealized version of themselves in my head. I used to think of myself as some sort of a Jane Austen JR, but i was just a loner throughout my whole middle school experience. And now, as an adult, i realize that you just have to be a fucking introspective loner to produce some nice writing, because all the other people are too busy doing shit like socializing. That’s how every writer you know is born.
And, of course, as a very introspective kid, i wrote a lot to know myself better. As an example, to know if i had feelings for someone, i used to write fantasy stories about them and if I blushed reading it, i was into them. The only thing is, i kept doing that instead of actually talking to someone. And by the time i was in high school, no one knew me very well. I kept everything that has ever happened to me in paper, and when it came to social relationships, i had writer’s block. The second one.
The first one is the one known by me and you, when you can’t formulate a sentence for many, many reasons. You just can’t write a single word. The second one is something fabricated by yours truly, to explain my catholic school teachers why my journals were always filled with stuff but i didn’t give a shit about anyone else surrounding me.
“It’s just writer’s block.”
And it consumed me.
Every relationship i had was for ‘the plot’, and i just couldn’t wait to document every single thing, just for the sake of maybe finding myself in my own words. After all, these were my experiences, right? Or were these experiences fabricated for… you know, the plot? Little did i know that that’s the most detrimental shit you can ever do to yourself. I missed so many years of my life, good years, putting myself in situations that were absolutely toxic and unnecessary in order to feel something. And to make these feelings art. Because one day, in my 16 year old head, I might be able to be famous or known because of them.
It took me many years of self consciousness to be here, writing to you. And please hear me when i say that the plot is NOT worth it. If my past self knew that she was going to form genuine human connections, and feel the warmth of being genuinely appreciated through writing about movies, like ‘Paris Is Burning’ or writing about my personal hero, Anthony Bourdain, without having to feel the need to expose herself to harmful situations, she would be ecstatic. And i’m writing to you to tell you that you can do that as well.
You don’t have to feel tortured or hurt all the time to be a great writer. Some of you are absolutely extraordinary and blow my mind all the time when talking about clothes or things that you love. You can absolutely lead a somewhat healthy life and be fantastic at writing because it’s all in your head anyway.
I found myself in all the amazing people I’ve met when i stopped worrying about sounding great or tortured and dropped the fucking pen. Their passion for things turned into my passion for things because i felt so connected to all of them. There are so many beautiful people to be met, so many ridiculously gorgeous landscapes to appreciate and so many overpriced coffee shops to be discovered… All of these being writing subjects. Absolutely. Every experience is an EXPERIENCE!! And if you’re really serious about writing, every single thing that happens to you is an excuse to write. I totally relate to that. Haha.
And having someone actually reading (and resonating) with what you’re writing is one of the most important things that can ever happen to a writer. It’s like being a kid and reading your little poem to your grandparents and having them clap for you when you’re done. I’ll always have that feeling. And every single commenter, i feel like i know you. I cry a lot with your stories and i keep them fondly in my heart as i go through my life. You’re part of all this, and we know each other because I decided to write a piece about guilt, instead of opening wounds i have very closed inside of me just to be able to call myself a writer.
So go on with living your life naturally. Don’t block yourself to things, or people. Don’t have my kind of writer’s block. Someone will definitely be excited to hear you talk or read your words about anything. So do it. And remember to be kind to yourself and to guard yourself when you’re presented with potential harmful situations that someone offers you ‘just for the plot’. Your plot will happen without all that stuff, and it will be beautiful. Hard, as life is, but beautiful.
I really don’t feel the need to endanger myself to be “an artist” my high school self used to anymore. And i believe you’re the reason why.
Back to where i was…
Yeah. I had the worst week of my life. Naturally. And i was going to write about it. As much as the essence of my middle school self is within me when i’m eager to write and share every single thing that ever happens in my life, some things shouldn’t be shared. So no, i won’t tell you about it. I just wrote this to you instead because i feel like you should read this. And because i feel like turning all my bad choices into lessons to be taken is my life goal as a writer. Writing to know myself better became writing to be a better person than i was yesterday. There’s nothing like improving from your mistakes. Consider my writer’s block healed in that way.
*If you’re a new friend i just made, here’s me yapping about Anthony Bourdain (so you don’t miss the lore)
it makes me feel not so alone to know that other people feel the same about being so closed off all the time, and it’s nice to know that you can get out of that “writers block.” i’m still working on not being in my own head all the damn time (and it’s really difficult because i find it difficult to start conversations with people and connect) in my 8th grade yearbook my school counselor wrote a note that has really stuck in my heart, it said: “… Don’t be afraid to use your voice (you have important things to say) and take up space!” and i try to keep that in mind when talking to people because if they don’t care for what i have to say then we’re not meant to be friends. thank you soo very much for sharing your experiences and i look forward to reading your articles every week and i’m excited for what you write in the future!! have a lovely day!!! 🩷🩷🩷
Ahhh loved this and can relate to it so much. Always been an introspective person and more of a quiet child that had a lot going on in her mind. The moment I picked up the pen (around 7 I believe) there was a great relief of letting all of that go. Or at least understand my thoughts a bit better, give them some structure or just simply express them. Through random stories or poetry.
And yes everything = experience!! Don't endanger yourself for the story hahaaa gosh, I remember once I wrote a poem that was so fucked up and I happened to live it about one year later. I always felt like I manifested it. I feel like I manifested stuff I wrote about and they weren't all so pretty. Did you ever experience it like that? It's interesting to think about.