some real stuff

I need to write something that makes me feel a certain way.

I need to write my most real shit yet.

I need to walk into a wilderness or by a mountain with no distraction and come up with work that’s either going to get me through something or help me level up my game.

I desperately need it.

I need it because they say in order to have good writing you need to be honest, and truthfully, I don’t feel like I am lying to myself. I think I am confronting the darkness inside of me.

It’s funny, too, because I expect writing to make me feel accomplished. And since I can’t have dope writings every single day, I rely on other people’s approval. It’s not really a desirable place to be in, though my way-too-needy, way-too-desperate self loves being here. It’s going to be my downfall, I’m sure.

Thing is, over the last couple of years I got every compliment that I have wished to get in the past. Though it did not feel as good as I thought it would (every single one of them), I can’t say that I don’t want more, because why the fuck not?

Impressive. That’s the word I’ve been thinking about lately. “Having the power to excite attention, awe, or admiration.” There’s no humble way to put it, so I’m not going to; I am impressed with myself lately. And seems like other people are, too, to some degree.

But that’s hardly the thing. It’s not fulfilling at all. But it’s also not like when you get something, you release dopamine and the excitement fades. You somehow still want it. But I want to have the power to chill the fuck down. Instead of exciting, I want to be excited.

I don’t want to go deeper into this topic, that would overwhelm me. And I am sorry, dear reader, but giving you a good reading experience is not my intention with this, it’s probably obvious with the repetitive words. It’s just what I needed, you know. I thought I should deliver this time and I feel like this should be out there instead of sitting in the folder in which there are my God-awful drafts and rumblings.