Category Archives: Writing

Discovery, Doubt, Greatness, Growth, Mental Health, Mindfulness, Reflections, Self-Care, Self-Love, Wellness, Writing

I Still Believe

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I’m tired of waiting. I’m tired of being patient. When will my time come? I knew going into this that I wasn’t going to get immediate results. I knew that it would take time, effort, and patience. So, I did what I needed to do: I put my head down and got to work. It was meant to be a two-pronged approach that kept me focused in the interim. It allowed me to perfect my storytelling craft in quiet, while still having something to show for it on this platform. But I can’t help but feel like I haven’t really gotten any closer to where I wanna go. It’s gotten increasingly harder for me to maintain my focus.

At first, it was easy for me to ignore all the distractions. I knew that my quality of writing needed to improve drastically if I wanted to make this work. It wasn’t particularly difficult to keep my head down then, since in my mind it was a tangible goal to reach for—even if the line between not good enough and where I need to be was rather blurry. But now that I’ve leveled up to a place that I feel good about, I feel like I’d like something more. I’ve spent enough time toiling in the workshop, I want to show the world what I’ve learned and how much I’ve improved. I feel like I have a lot to offer to the people around me. Unfortunately, I continue to learn time and time again that what I want isn’t necessarily what the universe is willing to provide. In fact, it seems that more often than not the two don’t align at all.

It seems that love, support, and appreciation is hard to come by these days. It just feels like no matter what I do or how hard I try I just can’t get the backing that I’m looking for. I understand that people don’t care about the same things that I care about. Most people aren’t going to prioritize mental health or writing or poetry the way that I do. That’s just the honest truth. I’m not so naive that I’ll believe otherwise. And I’m not so arrogant or entitled to believe that I’m owed anything from anyone. However, I feel like I should at least get what I deserve—I should get as much out of it as I put into it. That’s only fair, right? Unfortunately, I continue to learn the hard way that life isn’t fair either. The scale isn’t balanced. And perhaps karma is just a fallacy. A concept that’s better in theory than it is in practice. Merely an ideal and not reality. 

You have no idea how much it pains me to say that. While I’m not going to go so far as to proclaim that, “karma is a lie,” I have to accept that there’s a possibility that it isn’t a law of the universe like I want to believe. I’m not sure when exactly it happened, but for some time now, a large component of my ethos has been the concept of meritocracy. You get what you give. You’re rewarded according to your skill and what you’re able to provide. If you work hard and do good, blessings will come to you. If you insert positive energy into the world, you’ll receive positive energy in turn. Good ideals to have, but I’ve started to wonder as well, whether or not this is rooted in truth.

For the last four years or so, I was so confident that I had the right of it. All I had to do was put in the time, effort and energy, and things would come together for me. While I still want to believe that, and will continue to operate like it’s true, I’m just not so sure anymore. My hard work hasn’t paid off yet. Again, I understand that it takes time, but I guess I just thought things would play out differently. I thought what I had to offer the world would be well-received. That’s not how things have gone, to say the least. While I haven’t received outright hate or negativity (at least, not in a long time), I’ve received quite a bit of apathy and indifference, which frankly, I’m getting rather tired of. Of course, I was expecting such a reception—it’s the life of a starving artist after all (name me a group of people more misunderstood than creatives, I’ll wait)—but I had thought it’d be to a lesser degree. 

I almost feel like I prefer the former rather than the latter. Hate and negativity is easier to tune out, especially if you’re confident and know your worth. You know what you’re capable of. If you’ve been busting your ass at something you’re passionate about, you will improve—that’s just a fact of life. At some point, you will reach a baseline competency in the quality of your product and your skillset. Your haters and doubters won’t have a leg to stand on. Anything they say will come off as petty jealousy or spite. Easy to ignore because you know that what they have to say is neither meaningful nor true. There’s nothing that needs to be read into further, because how they feel about you is out in the open.

Not so when it comes to indifference. When it comes to indifference nothing is overt or straightforward. It’s a cloak and dagger operation rife with obfuscation, projection, and misunderstanding/misinterpretation. How exactly are you supposed to read into the lack of action? Do they not care? If so, why not? Does what you have to say not matter to them? Do you not matter to them? Or do they simply not understand what it is you’re trying to do? How exactly are you supposed to know without confronting them? Finding out the truth will likely lead to uncomfortable situations, however. Easier then to decide to just leave things as they are—keep the truth hidden somewhere in the dark. But that’s never sat well with me. It feels too much like a game of chicken. One party is too afraid to ask the other how they truly feel, and the other party isn’t willing to commit, for whatever reason. Which leaves us at an impasse which will never be resolved unless someone budges.

I dunno about you, but I’m too old to be playing such games. If you’re on my side then prove it. Actions speak louder than words. Don’t just tell me you want to see me succeed, show it to me. I don’t think I’m asking for much here. If you care about me (or cared about me once) then you should care about the work that I do. It’s as simple as that. No fakery or hidden meanings. Do I matter to you? Yes or no? That’s a question for you to ponder, and one that I’m going to condition myself to ignore. Easier said than done, of course—like most things. But something I have to keep reminding myself of, because at the end of the day, what you think about my work doesn’t actually matter. I’m not saying that your opinion doesn’t matter, to be clear. I’m saying that your opinion about what I’m doing is irrelevant to my goal(s). 

Throughout life there will be people who support you and people that will doubt you. You will have lovers and you will have haters. People will praise you and people will shit on you. These are facts of life. You can’t please everybody because everybody is different. Some worldviews align with each other, and some clash. The sooner you accept this, the sooner you’ll realize that all feedback is noise, good or bad. Criticism, constructive or otherwise, either helps you improve or it gets in your way. You take what’s beneficial, and you throw out the rest. 

That being said, I’m not going to beg. I’m not going to hold my breath waiting for support to come from the indifferent—that’s never going to happen. I’m not going to throw a pity party and say, “woe is me…” I already did enough of that in my youth. Instead, I will focus on me and what I can do. How can I be a better writer? How can I be a better mental health advocate? How can I be a better storyteller, poet, editor or what have you? How can I live the life that I think I deserve? I can only control what I can control. And it starts with my effort and my consistency. I can’t let up for a second. I can’t afford to lose my focus. I can’t let anything get in the way of my goal. Some day I’ll get to where I wanna go, but only if I keep following through. There’s no such thing as failure, only lessons. The only way I fail is if I give up. And I’ll tell you this much: that ain’t happening, as long as the passion is there. You might not believe in me, but I believe in me. And that’s all that matters. 

Existentialism, people, Poetry, Questions, Reflections, Writing

Karma?

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You get what you give
So I’ve been told
But it doesn’t always feel that way
It seems quite often that the equation isn’t equal
The universe demands balance
But there isn’t any to be found

You get what you give
They’ve said it time and time again
I believed it at first
But I’ve started to have doubts
The scale isn’t balanced
Hasn’t been for a while

You get what you give
Good begets good
Evil begets evil
It seemed a simple truth
But now I’m not so sure
Could it actually be more nuanced than that?

If that were true would there still be pain and strife?
Would only the evil get cancer?
Would the good be destined for a blessed life?
The universe is random, putting jumbled pieces together
It strives for balance
But it isn’t always attainable

You get what you give
That’s the way it should work
But it’s better in theory
As with most things in this world
Concepts that had been conceived from a pure heart
But ones that have been perverted by humanity

You get what you give
I wished I believed
But everyone’s so fucked up
For karmic balance, for utopia, for unity
Oh, woe is me. Oh, woe is me.
What’s come of humanity?

Brokenness, Changing, Depression, Discovery, Growth, Healing, Mental Health, Mindfulness, Nature, Self-Care, Self-Love, Wellness, Writing

Finally Feeling Appreciative

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All these years I’ve never really had an appreciation for nature. Birds annoyed me. Scenery was boring. I hated raking the leaves and shoveling the snow. But most of all, I just didn’t really like being outside. There was too much pollen, too much dirt, not enough things to do. Weak excuses, I know! I just wasn’t the most active kid. I would ride my bike around the neighborhood in the summer. And I would snowboard or tube in the backyard (or hit the slopes, of course) in the winter. As a family, we would go on the occasional hike or camping trip. But aside from that, I spent most of my free time indoors—I preferred to be in my room. 

Growing up, my mom used to take us to the library all the time. I can’t say what drew me in exactly, but naturally, I gravitated towards fantasy and sci-fi—that interest has only strengthened over time. That being said, fantasy being what it is, I spent many a day immersed in wild landscapes. Reading about forests and oceans. Over the hill and through the woods. You know, heroes embarking on adventures and all that. Which should lend itself to love and appreciation for nature, right? Wrong! I liked nature in theory, but not in practice. I wandered the deserts and the plains on the page, but couldn’t be bothered to do it in person.

Fast forward to high school. Some things changed, but many others didn’t. I remember reading (and writing) quite a lot of poetry all four years. It was my first love, even if I didn’t want to admit it for a long time. There’s one unit that’s still particularly vivid in my mind. It was the winter of sophomore or junior year, the entire term was spent reading poetry. We started with the Brooding Romantics, then we moved onto Transcendentalism, and we ended with a third movement that I can’t seem to remember the name of (Realism maybe?). As you would expect, many a poem touched upon flora and fauna, scenery and wildlife. Sure, each one was super descriptive, sounded great, and was beautifully crafted, but I never truly understood it. I could picture the scene in my mind, but I could’t see the appeal in it, or appreciate the beauty. Nature just didn’t seem to resonate with me. I tried again and again to see things from their perspective but I just couldn’t do it.

The fact of the matter is I just didn’t have much appreciation for life in general. I wasn’t one to count my blessings or see things with rose-colored lenses or consider the glass to be half-full. I was more likely to mope or feel sorry for myself or focus on what I lacked. My vision was clouded by my hurt. I had too much bitterness and resentment in my heart to allow for love to come in. And without love, there is no appreciation. I know that full well now. Without love, everything dies. Without love, there is no joy or happiness or peace. Without love, there is only pain and hardship and bitterness. Everything needs love, everything starts with love.

I understand that finding a romantic partner is particularly difficult for some. But that’s not actually what I’m trying to get at here. When I say that, “everything starts with love,” I mean that everything starts with self-love. Unfortunately, that is easier said than done. I dunno what it is about our culture, but we’ve conditioned ourselves to be our biggest critics. We’re prone to self-deprecation and devaluing our worth. I suspect that oftentimes started out as a defense mechanism to protect us from bullying. “If I’m laughing at myself, then it means that they have no power over me.” But where do we draw the line? When does the self-deprecation go too far? When does it start to damage our ego and effect our self-confidence? I wish I knew the answers to these questions when I was younger. Perhaps my teenage years wouldn’t have been as rough. 

But as I’ve said before, we’re not able to change the past. Our trauma and our scars are a part of us, just as our passions and our interests are also. The good and the bad make us who we are. We can’t have strength without weakness. Positive without negative. Healing without hurting. That being said, my depression and my anxiety are a part of me. It’s a part of my history, but it’s also a part of my story. Even though I’ve found my healing, these are things I’ll have to live with for the rest of my life. Depression isn’t a thing that’s over and done with, it’s something I have to fight every single day of every goddamn year. Despite what it seems, acknowledging that doesn’t mean that you’re giving it power. But rather, that you accept and love yourself as you are: the good, the bad, and the ugly. Your mental illness(es) are part of your story, but they don’t define you.

For a long time, that wasn’t something that I believed. Instead, I let the voices win. I bought into the lies that they told me. You’re worthless. You’re useless. You won’t amount to much. It seemed that my depression and anxiety would get in my way at every turn. And so they did until I finally ended up in therapy. Life was quite dark for me, trapped beneath a cloud of despair. I’ve vowed to never return to that melancholic state, but it’s a daily struggle for me (and for people like me). That’s just how it goes.

I’ll have good months and bad months, good weeks and bad weeks, good days and bad days. Some days are easier than others, some days I can be strong in my resolve. Others are tougher. But regardless, I will still fight. Battles will be hard fought, but the war will never be won. But that doesn’t mean that I give in. I just need to keep picking myself back up, dusting off my shoulders, and continuing forwards. Instead of cowering like I used to, I stare down my mental illness and say, “not today, motherfucker. I am in control of this life, not you.” Just because I’ve been dealt that card doesn’t mean that I’m going to let it hold me back. Not anymore. The going has been tough, and will continue to be, but I’ll be better for it in the end. I only come out of this stronger. Better. Wiser.

So, as I grow older, the acceptance and love for myself also grows. And with that comes appreciation. Appreciation for the things around me. Everything that I’ve been blessed with. The good and the bad. My strengths and my weaknesses. The lessons that I’ve learned. The trauma from my past. The brightness of my future. But most importantly, I’ve finally started to understand the thing that never made sense to me before. I’m finally able to appreciate the beauty of nature. The birds chirping in the morning. The scent of flowers in bloom. A trek through the forest. A walk along the beach. The stunning vistas from the mountaintops. Life can be abundant, and full of joy. It can be happy and fulfilling. It can also be busy and stressful. So don’t forget to take a moment to smell the roses. 

Brokenness, Depression, Loss, Poetry, Writing

(Scars) As the World Burns

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Sometimes I just wanna see the world burn
See it ground to dust so I don’t have to live in it anymore
Watch as the palaces crumble
And see the wicked get what they deserve

Let the righteous perish
So that we can start the whole thing over
The good, the bad, the ugly, the indifferent
Let them all meet their demise

What does it matter?
We’ll all be dead in the end
We’ll all get what we deserve

But is that any way to live?
Mad at the world, and hating everyone in it?
When did I get so bitter?
When did I get so angry?
When did I lose all hope for meaningful change?

How did I get this way?
Where did all this hate stem from?
The root of it is this:
I’ve been hurt far too much
For far too long

Felt mistreated and misunderstood
Felt like I didn’t belong
That there was no place for me here

I’ve held out hope that things would turn out better
But it feels like the same story repeating over and over
I find my place and then I lose it
Pushed out, forced out, weaned away

I try to get over it
I try to just forget
But it seems the scars have already cut too deep
I will move on, but I won’t forget
I can’t forget, it’s impossible to forget

My scars, they are a part of me
Sometimes they drive me, sometimes they fuel me
Sometimes they hurt me, sometimes they anger me

A part of me wants to see the world burn
A part of me wants to see the towers crumble
See the wicked punished
And see those who persecuted me set ablaze

But the hatred in my heart only hurts me more
The anger I feel only gets in my way
Best to try to forgive and forget
But that’s the hardest task yet
My scars, they are a part of me
For better or for worse
Sometimes they will fuel me
But sometimes they will hurt

Loss, Poetry, Relationships, Writing

Two Minds

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How can I have so much bitterness in my heart?
Angry and upset about someone I cared about for so long
I know we’ve had some issues in the recent past
I’m not afraid to admit that
I find that I’m still loyal to you
And would like to be until the end

But you need to do more, care more, give more
I feel like I’ve given you all I’ve got
And I haven’t received the same in return
At one point we saw eye to eye
But you’ve given me less and less
And I fear we’re drifting apart

I’d like to care less
I’d like to focus more on me
And spend less time on you
But even still I care about you, and want you still

The specter of disappointment lingers behind you
You haven’t met my expectations in a long while
We were giving as much to each other as we gave to ourselves
And I long for that still
I wish that were still the dynamic
But alas, things have changed

I accept that and it’s okay
I just have to approach with more caution
But my loyalty gets in the way
I can’t deprive myself of helping you
My feelings are mixed in that way

I still want to see things through
I still want to be good to you
But my bitterness gets in the way
I can’t seem to tame my rage
I can’t seem to overcome the pain of disappointment
Can’t seem to express to you the way that I feel

So this will have to do
I’m of two minds
I want to continue being good to you
But I also want to beat the shit out of you
I want to keep helping you
But what do I get out of it?
Increasingly less

I’m not asking for your undivided attention
Just for some in part
I’m not asking for your full commitment
Just for a little devotion
I’m not asking you to go along for the whole ride
Just that sometimes you would be by my side

Not asking for your love and affection
Just a brief moment of your time
I know you’re busy but I’ve set aside time for you
I expected you to do the same

I’m of two minds
Part of me wants to end it
I mean what’s in it for me?
But part of me doesn’t wanna rock the boat
We had something good for so long
I had only hoped for it to become more strong

It seems I must’ve misread the situation
I was much more devoted to you than you were to me
I sit here and long for what we once had
It seems like such a long time ago
Maybe we can recover and move on
Or maybe this is just a thing of the past