When writing, the first question you are always supposed to ask yourself is, “who is your audience?”
Who is my audience?
When I write, I write to myself, especially on this blog.
This isn’t for a grade, for a paycheck, or for any other necessity. This is for me.
I started writing when I was ten (before that actually, journaling and whatnot) because as much as I loved to read, I felt there were too many stories that simply didn’t exist. But I wanted them to.
I’ve always had the mentality that if something I wanted didn’t exist, then I should make it so.
Make it so!
^Seriously my favorite quote ever.^
Thus, as I have done and do with pretty much everything, if it doesn’t exist and I want it to, I create it. So I wrote and I continue to write the things I want to read.
I write for myself. But I also know, I’m not alone. Someone somewhere looks for shit like this. I don’t know why anyone would, but I guess someone gives a shit.
Regardless, I write for myself.
I find myself enjoying the solitude. I try to fight it. I try to make myself rally people together to go out to eat, to party, to do anything but sit here and do what I do all day and night.
But I really like being with myself.
I have never had friends in abundance. And when I do have friends, they never last long. I get rid of them usually. Same with family. It feels better that way. It’s a few and far situation and I prefer it that way, even though I often wish I didn’t.
I used to believe in falling madly in love with someone, and tried to make it happen on several occasions. Then I tried just “letting” it happen. Then I realized I hate the idea no matter what.
Perhaps I’m jaded.
Perhaps I’m done fighting who I am and what I really want.
Unlikely, since we all continue to fight who we are on the daily. We stay in relationships we secretly hate, or keep ourselves from being in a relationship that we would love, or avoid the career that suits us better, or pretend we don’t need that degree, or force ourselves to finish a degree we hate, and we constantly convince ourselves to do something contradictory to who we are.
Because we pretend we don’t know who we are. We avoid it. We look away.
And here I am, doing what I always do.
Writing. Thinking. Fantasizing.
Dancing ballet to God Smack and Prince at 2 AM, because sometimes that’s the only way I can feel better. I often miss being in ballet, and I’ve never stopped dancing regardless if I have an audience.
Same to singing. I miss singing in a band, crazed with stage presence. So I do it. Doesn’t matter if it’s just me. I like singing Sublime and Weezer, damnit.
I’ll study Greek mythology and read famous Youtubers’ latest books as much as I want.
I will reread Philip Wylie’s Triumph til I memorize every golden line as well as Ecclesiasticus just because I enjoy it so damn much.
I’ll study the deductive abilities of Sherlock Holmes and the character’s inspiration, Joseph Bell, because I believe it’s possible to achieve such skills and I’d like to at least try to prove it.
I’d also like to be the first real Holmes without embellishment or exaggeration. I may fail, but it’s worth a shot. What else am I going to do with my time?
It interests me. So why the fuck not?
I will drink tea and smoke my pipe and write poems while Amanda Palmer wails lovingly from my speakers.
I will sip beer and belch and light up a cigar while I watch nature documentaries.
And I will check my phone every hour for texts that won’t come, and I won’t feel sad, I’ll feel reaffirmed.
I will continue being my best friend.
I will happily be my partner.
I will look forward to life with myself as my “true love.”
Or whatever they call that shit today.
It’s become too hard to justify the purpose of a relationship when the answer is always, “you don’t need anyone.” None of us truly need anyone. I’ve tried arguing against myself on this one, truly. But I’m constantly hit with, “but you can do that yourself…” Relationships are not a necessity, no matter how much I’d like to believe otherwise.
But they are nice… When people behave like they should.
And no one ever does.
Does that sound bitter? Jaded? Melancholic?
I wish it didn’t, because that is not the feeling behind this keyboard.
It simply is what it is.
I find myself saying that more. It used to be once in a while when I was a kid, but now it’s almost every day.
It is what it is.
And it is.
I’m not afraid of being alone.
I quite like it.
I love it, actually.
And that’s what I’m afraid of.
The difference between narcissism and conceit is this:
Narcissistic- excessive or erotic interest in oneself and one’s physical appearance. Also, extreme selfishness, with a grandiose view of one’s own talents and a craving for admiration, as characterizing a personality type.
Conceit- excessive pride in oneself.
I love myself and think highly of myself, but I’m not at all proud of who I am.
That’s the difference, for those wondering.