I am 23 years, 11 months, 11 days, and 11 hours old. For much of the time that I have been alive, I have been writing. I never know why, only that I must. The earliest job and most long-lasting desire of mine is to be a writer. Yet, in writing these words, my status as a writer is something that seems unattainable. Sure, I am a writer in the same way that nearly everyone is a writer: I put words to page, and some people read those words. But I don't just want to write words, I want to be a writer. Thus, I question what it is to be writer, if the standard is not simply to write. I can't say what it is, but I'm sure if I told someone I was a writer, and I couldn't site something that I've published through official channels, they'd laugh in my face and I'd kill myself. So, whatever a writer is, I am not it. I write, I am not a writer.
I recently decided to open up on here about my experiences with abuse as a child. Fundamentally, everything I've written since the abuse has been about it. It is an inescapable pit underwhich every thought falls into, and for whatever reason, I feel the need to share those thoughts with the world. Is it arrogance? A sense of entitlement to purpose? Is it the thought that purpose may only be derrived from social comparison? I don't know. I'm putting this bit of writing in the opinions section, but maybe it should be in the diary section. I don't know if I'm going to come to any conclusions, only that I am going to write.
The first thing I ever wrote was a piece of fanfiction set in the terminator universe, in which a terminator crashlands into the earth, and instigates the reduction of the world to a wasteland. The conclusion of the story is a world encapsulated in fire, where the only life that still exists is robotic, digital. So I've always had a tendancy to write depression things.
Joy is artificial. Any representations of happiness feel like a pretense. No one is happy, so if anyone writes about happiness, it must be a lie, and I hate liars. Whenever a piece of media feels happy, I distain it. The inherent falsehood of pleasure, and the inherent truth of pain is such that I only want to write about what hurts me. I don't think this is true, but this is how I feel.
In real life, I want to suffer in silence. I don't want people to know that I'm hurt. I am a cat near death, slinking under a bed to die, unnoticed. But I write publically here, on my website. The contradicting is telling. I am a liar, I must be. Either I want my suffering to be unnoticed, or I post publically about that suffering, both cannot be true at the same time. Right? Everytime I write about myself, I feel this sting, like I'm making someone else's life worse, and thus allowing my pain to spread. It feels as though I am making the world a worse place by existing, and sharing that existence with others. But I know that when I read about people who suffer like I do, it makes me feel less alone. And I hate feeling alone. Maybe that's why I write, to make other people feel less alone. But God, I feel so fucking alone. And I've been so fucking hurt for so fucking long. I just plagiarized Synecdoche, New York. That's not the only theft in this bit of writing. The title is a reference to Waiting for Godot. I'm not a person, I'm bunch of literary references in a trenchcoat. My ideas are not original, my feelings not unique. Everyone hurts, everyone wants to die, everyone has tried to kill themselves, everyone was raped. Everyone hates their time on this bitch of an earth. And everyone wishes that they would just end it, but know they never will. Because there's always something that needs to be done, some person who needs help, some reason to keep going when the pain begs you to stop.
I wish I could write about happiness. I don't want to, and can't, write about things I don't know to be true. Truth is so important to me, and if I were to write about the experience of happiness, I would be lying. Sure, I've been happy, but never for long. Happiness is distant, eternally beyond reach. What bits of joy I feel are just the remnants of what could have been, but isn't. I do not like myself. I actively hate who I am, and desparately wish I was someone else. Anyone else. Before I was on Lexapro, I was constantly suicidal. Now I'm just usually suicidal, but not actively trying to kill myself. So that's a step in the right direction at least. I've been on Lexapro for almost 4 years now. 4 years that I have been in pain, but a medicine keeps me from actually ending it. Sometimes I fantasize about stopping, about allowing myself to sink back into the hole that I've been pushed out of. To stare into the Abyss, and allow it to stare right back. I just plagiarized Neitzsche.
Its not because I'm an atheist. Its not because I'm gay. Its not because I'm a Jew. I want to die because I'm a piece of shit. Maybe I write because I'm a piece of shit. Something that I don't often portray on this website is how much of an asshole I am. I don't like talking to people. I want to be left alone. I don't know how to talk to people. I don't know how to be alone. I am mean, I insult people, I make people cry. I once had a debate with someone in which they said they didn't want gender neutral bathrooms out of fear that it would increase assaults. I argued that a rapist wouldn't decide not to rape someone because they were in the women's room. She cried, and ran out of the classroom. I don't fully understand what I did wrong, but I know that I am the type of person to make other people cry. I just want to help people, I just want people to be happy, and I make them cry.
I try to be accepting and loving of people because I know that I want people to be accepting and loving of me. But I fail, I make people cry. I want so much to be a good person, but I always fall short. Maybe that's why I write, so I can become a good person. Am I a good person? That's rhetorical.
Writing makes me happy. Writing is one of the only things that makes me happy. Maybe that's why I write, because I want to be happy? It hasn't worked. Its a high with dimminising returns. I was happiest when I wrote my first book. I have never been happier with writing since then. By the time I eventually kill myself, I'm sure nothing will make me happy. That is except my boyfriend, he makes me happy. But once he leaves, and I'm alone, I'm left with my constant, nagging hatred for myself.
No one will ever love you for everything you are. That's from a song I like, A Song for Caden. I think that I write because I want people to see me plainly for who I am. Reveal as much about myself as I can, so that way I can know if anyone out there could truly love me. I want to be held, I want to be loved. I want to be told that its going to be okay. But I know it isn't. But for just a bit, I want to think it'll be.
They say to write what you know. I don't know anything. So I shouldn't write.
But I have to. I can't stop. I never stop. If I stop I'll die.
Maybe that's why I write, if I stop I'll die, and I'm a coward.
I write because I'm a coward.
I write because I'm a liar. A liar who thinks herself true.
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