Thursday 16 January 2020

Stop Running...

What are you running from?

Who are you running from? 

Is this considered running or hiding? Does it even matter? 

Just thinking out loud. Figured I needed to get back into writing and this is the only way that makes any sense to me. But bare in mind, nothing really ever makes sense, not in my head. I am getting annoyed at myself, a lot more so these days than usual. The idea machine, that is what I have become and it is absolutely useless because I haven't been able to take any action on my ideas. I keep making more and more and more; but with no execution. And that is on me. I could blame the world around me, the systems that look to control our actions and behaviors more and more each day or I can just be honest, look at myself in the mirror. I did this by not doing.

Am I distracted? Disjointed? Derailed? 

I don't know for sure, I actually think the answer is all three. But also the solution is right here as well. I need to write more, I need to write everyday. Easier said than done, I know this because I have tried and failed. But I owe this to my good friend and brother, Jake. Man comes to visit from BC and completely fixes my computer tower back to life. Poor old thing was on the brink of death and was way overdue for an update. I have no excuses now. 

I need to do this now, now more than ever. This week at work I have come to terms with aging, my back is starting to give out. I am going to do my best to stay in shape, take care of posture and most importantly make the most of my time. I have to be better at this. My job is a physical job with heavy lifting that I can't do for more than a year or two. I want to pursue my goals and my own ambitions, it is all that matters. And so I need to remind myself every day and night what I am meant to do, prove it to myself. I have no excuses.

I want to bring my characters, my stories, my worlds to life. 

That is all that is left. I don't know what else I am on this planet for if not bringing my vision to life. And maybe this will all be in vain and fall on deaf ears, but I won't know unless I try. And fail. And try again. And fail. And try again. Again. And again. Until I can't hold a pencil or type a word out, on my deaths bed. No excuses.

If I can do it my dear friend, so can you. 

Can you help me stay sharp? 

Thank you.

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