Chaotic Thoughts
My work is boring, it’s generic and I’m not putting my heart into it. I write raw and then I delete it. That is my curse. I feel like an attention seeker because whenever I asked my friends to read a part of my story, they would act like it’s a chore which if I think about from their point of view, is kind of true. Why would anyone be interested in reading what I have to say unless I’ve written something that I feel like everyone needs to read?
Another day starts, another day for so many opportunities that I can accomplish and yet here I lay, crying and broken down because I am just so tired of all this nonsense, all these constant rejection emails are not doing anything for my self-esteem either. Even if I achieve anything I would believe that it’s not because of me. I am only capable of leaving out tasks in the middle. That is my fatal flaw.
After reading all the positive mindsets of the people writing self-improvement articles, everything was starting to look a little blurry with the same kind of motivational words thrown in each article. Do something. Achieve. Anything out of the box. But how can I achieve anything when I’m just aimlessly wandering? When I don’t even know what I even want I’m seeking? When nothing I do feels original enough.
Everything I touch gets corroded, everyone that I like gets weirded out by me, Those who do like me lose their value.
Why would they not lose value? I am not an interesting person — or at least that’s how I was made to feel like most of the times. I remember once in school when I was talking to a class fellow whom I considered a friend, she asked me a question to which I got very excited to answer and I felt like she was genuinely curious to hear what I have to say too until I noticed the smirk on her face.
When she saw my crestfallen expressions she looked right in my eyes and with all the certainty she could muster told me how boring I am. I was too shocked to say anything back. That was the time I started to close myself off and got really cautious about talking about my interests with people in fear of getting called out like that again.
I am sick of keeping this expectations that people will ever want to read my work, even to me it sounds boring and robotic and I get ashamed of it when I’m going through it. I am supposed to like what I create, right? There’s never this sense of accomplishment. And that’s not just with writing it’s with anything I work on.
I want to work on my writing skills to the point where I don’t have to beg others to read what I write. I want to improve until I stop feeling like an imposter when I actually provide other people with value. Because the fault is not in them, its in me.
I need to get down from that high horse and actually see things for how they are without throwing a pity party every chance that I get.
I’m not original. But at least I’m trying to be. That’s what matters, right?
