dumb dumb

I’m worried that this attempt at an adventure is coming to a screeching halt. I have not written in over a week. I have thought about writing, but, once again, did not write at all.

I was offered an interview for a job next week. This would be a full-time job that would either replace or supplement my part-time job. I’m conflicted. First of all, I agreed to do the interview, so I will just do that and let whatever happens happen. Second of all, with COVID-19, workers are losing jobs right and left anyway.

I’m disappointed in myself because I feel like a sellout. I don’t think that I have earnestly tried to be a writer and I don’t even respect writing that much. I don’t know why I think so much about it and also look down on it.

I don’t have to quit writing on this blog, but I don’t exactly trust myself. If I work full-time and maybe also have a part-time job - again if - would I actually write here for no readers? I hardly write here with a part-time job. Plus, I wrote even less when I was fully unemployed.

I feel like my life is small and cage-like. I feel like I don’t have a path. Hell, I don’t even feel lost because I don’t feel like I have anywhere to go to be lost. I would like to have more money. I would like to be more independent. That means a full-time job. I should be excited, but I feel conflicted.

I want to write and write and be free. I have probably spent ten minutes writing, but feel annoyed and bored with myself. Who would read this? I would probably tell myself to shut up by now. I’m trying to be more kind to myself though. That’s not what a kind person would say. That’s not what I would say to anyone else. Yet, here we are.

I guess you never know what will happen. I could choose to be open. I could choose to be free. I could choose it each and every day. Why shouldn’t I write on a blog that nobody reads? Who else is going to tell my story?

I don’t like to think of what I write here as my story as it is full of anxiety and sadness and loneliness. Maybe, that’s what this chapter speaks of. There is no point of rushing through a chapter just to see what happens. Each chapter has a place and a purpose. This is the anxious, sad, lonely chapter where I write a blog that nobody reads. This is the chapter of severe regret and mild hope. This chapter is tedious and hard and the main character is getting on my damn nerves. This chapter matters. The other chapters won’t make sense without it.