I used to love writing. NO. I used to write a lot. NO.
My mind is a mess.
Back in high school i was sure what i wanted to do with my life. Everybody knew i was about to be a writer. There was no doubt, i had a way with words, they just flowed through me to the paper, i was going to be a writer.
It’s been a while now since i finished high school, and even though it took me more than the average person because of illness, i never wrote a book.
It’s not like i wanted to be published or something, i just wanted to put my ideas on a paper and read them to myself. That’s all i really wanted.
But those days are gone now. (And i’m having a deja vu).
I remember having a clarity for words growing up, i knew how to arrange the words to give them the best use. I could develop one idea into a lot of pages, like in exams and stories.. words were part of me.
Then something happened. I don’t know what… but one day i just couldn’t keep seeing and telling the stuff i saw in my mind.
My mind became havoc one day and since then i’m pretty sure all i write have no sense whatsoever. I’m not quite sure anything that comes out of my mouth make any sense. Do people understand me? Am i talking right?
A while ago i commented on having a lot of thoughts through the day, so much i would wake up in the middle of the night to keep thinking. But nothing of that makes sense. And i’m not sure why my mind became such a mess.
Why am i even talking about this?
Well, i was writing a different post a few minutes ago, and when i checked it up it made no sense even to me. Which is weird, because i usually know myself enough to undertsand what i’m talking about. That was not the case thi time, and i started thinking, what if all the stuff in here makes no sense?
Things became suddenly complicated.
I feel like i usually mumble a lot and because of that when i’m around people iprefer not to speak.
The thing is i’m not sure if this is a self esteem issue or something else, and there’s no one i can talk about it with, because since i don’t speak i don’t have friends to go to… Anywya, it’s not like i would be able to explain to them any of this. Words wouldn’t come out my mouth if i was with them…
So i write. But i no longer write stories, because my mind is a complete mess and i don’t know how to interact with people any longer.
I write about books and the stuff i love, i write about it a lot, more than you actually see here, because even though my mind is mess and i don’t have people to talk to i still have a lot of thoughts that i need to take out of my mind.
I really have no idea what was the actual point of this post.
Maybe a little rumbling to clean my head a bit.
AVOID. AVOID. AVOID.