I would like to point out that I tried. Allow me to come to my own defense and direct your attention to the numerous times I tried to write in the past few months.
- October: 4 times
- November: 3 times
- December: 3 times
If all the posts I started were published, there would be a lot more for you all to read. Sadly, I have the unfortunate inability to release anything that hasn't been entirely finished. And what with my lack of time these days, I rarely get around to finishing anything.
For more reasons than one, too...
Slowly but surely, my imagination and my creative spirit are dying. I don't have much faith in anything these days. People are all horrible (myself included), we're messed up, constantly failing, using every minute to pursue useless endeavors that will inevitably result in nothing at the time of our expiration.
So what is worth pursuing? What, at the end of the day, is really worth my effort and dedication?
After all this time asking the same question, I still don't know. I still cannot quite figure it out.
But I think I'm getting closer.
Of all the things I have done thus far, all the things I have tried to learn, tried to devote myself to, the only endeavor that ever seems to feel right is helping other people; if what I do benefits someone else, even if only in a very small way, the hours spent working and sweating seem worthwhile.
Which always leads to the next question; what can I do with that?
What job or career can I involve myself in that will let me accomplish what I want? People have suggested that I become a teacher or something akin to that, but I don't know if I'm up to the challenge.
Which I suppose might mean that I am not really dedicated to helping others. If I can't put in the work necessary, I must not really want to help anyone.
But I don't know.
I don't know what I'm doing, where I'm going, or how anything makes sense these days.
I made the mistake of believing that life would come together like a puzzle over time, with more pieces being filled in as I learned and experienced. Unfortunately, it seems to be the other way around; I had a picture of life, but the longer I'm alive the more the picture doesn't make sense and I keep removing pieces, hoping that I'll be able to put them back together in a way that makes sense. But more choices present themselves as more pieces are removed. Now I don't even know what picture I'm trying to build. There's just a pile of pieces that belong to some fragmented picture of a once concrete view of life.
There was less as a kid; less stress, less money, less worry, less care, less consequence. The world existed on a much smaller scale and so the input on my picture of life was minimal.
At this point I just want to put the pieces down and go take a walk. Maybe if I come back in a little while, the picture will be clearer.
Over the course of the last few days, I have been working on seeing things. Not just looking at them, but seeing them. There is a massive difference between viewing the larger scene and observing the details within it. It is brilliant.
It makes me want to take pictures again because there really is so much to be seen.