I am jealous of the leagues of bullshit writers out there who think they’re good writers. Because I decided tonight to look back on the stuff I’ve written over the years. And things i thought were the best things I’ve ever done are just a total disjointed pile of steaming dogshit. And now i’m just sitting here and crying over a casserole of nonsense that represents the “talent” you well meaning people insisted i had. Thanks for trying.. And i love you for that.
I envy those of you with arrogance. I wish i had enough of it. It would make being a writer a whole lot easier. No, I’m not fishing for a complement. No complement on earth is going to erase the huge, tangled mess of words I’m staring at right now. Do you know I have over a thousand pages of content? And none of it worth the pixels it takes up? I’m looking at this thing and it’s like.. damn man.. It’s like i’ve taken the english language at gunpoint and forced it to try and accurately represent me. This isn’t writing. This is a hostage situation.
I don’t think i’ve ever used social media to puke out my current emotional state but you guys? This is bad. This is about as bad as it gets. The worst thing about all of this is that deep underneath this twisted bucket of pretension and nonsense is actually a half decent talent that will never, ever see the light of day because i’m just too damn stupid.
I’m not sad so don’t try to make me feel better. Tell me a joke or something like that. I enjoy a good joke. Or better yet give me a cogent and sensible plotline. Because i have no clue what i’m doing.