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27
3 years ago
I spent like half a year trying to write my own trash gay novel that was purposely tropey and bad and fun and like.... I couldn’t even write a fucking chapter because for whatever reason I just can’t write anything original. I just.... it’s awful. It’s all fucking a mess and I can’t make anything work and I can’t even say I worked too hard and exhausted myself because I spent most the year not even working on it. I tried to not tell people I was working on it so I’d have that lack of expectations to help me but in the end i couldn’t make anything. I can’t draw anything I actually want or would like to draw because I am so terrified of the shame and when I put in effort into my art it is all just fucking ignored. I’m so tired. I’m so tired but I can’t afford to rest and take a break because my time is just running out in a way people don’t get. That when I tell them they tell me I’m being silly. That I have my whole life ahead of me and just... I don’t make something of myself now I know I will die. I will be dead in like 3 years and I have to make something of myself. I have to. i have to make my art and my legacy or whatever it is now or I’m just going to sink into the mud and die.
but i keep failing and no one is ever listening. nobody actually gives a shit. i want to die. and i have wanted to die a long time. But i can’t die yet because it’s not time but I know when. I know I will die in airport at the age of 27 when my foot gets caught in the treads of an escalator and fall backwards and tumble with luggage and snap my neck and bang my head on the floor. I dream of this death and I have for years. When people talk about death I see this scene vividly. I know it. I know it is coming. I wait for it.
And that’s why I can’t stop. Because I know I’m running out of time. I’m not making it to 30 as far as I am concerned. I die at 27 in an airport. On an escalator. Because my heal slips into the treads and i stumble backwards twisting my leg painfully. My suitcase is black and bulk and it slams into me pushing me down and while i’m not far up it’s enough that i fall and slide for enough time to be dragged over the steps. My neck repeatedly bruised and battered. I know I choke and my head screams and pounds. And I know the lady behind me with red hair is screaming. I die at 27. So I can’t stop.
I can’t rest
but i keep failing and no one is ever listening. nobody actually gives a shit. i want to die. and i have wanted to die a long time. But i can’t die yet because it’s not time but I know when. I know I will die in airport at the age of 27 when my foot gets caught in the treads of an escalator and fall backwards and tumble with luggage and snap my neck and bang my head on the floor. I dream of this death and I have for years. When people talk about death I see this scene vividly. I know it. I know it is coming. I wait for it.
And that’s why I can’t stop. Because I know I’m running out of time. I’m not making it to 30 as far as I am concerned. I die at 27 in an airport. On an escalator. Because my heal slips into the treads and i stumble backwards twisting my leg painfully. My suitcase is black and bulk and it slams into me pushing me down and while i’m not far up it’s enough that i fall and slide for enough time to be dragged over the steps. My neck repeatedly bruised and battered. I know I choke and my head screams and pounds. And I know the lady behind me with red hair is screaming. I die at 27. So I can’t stop.
I can’t rest
Over the days you didn't write, and the old projects you never completed. Focus on the NOW and write!
2. Make It A Habit
Write everyday. Make the time to write, even if it is a few minutes. If you don't keep sharpening your writing muscles, they will get dull.
3. Jump In
Don't think too much. Jump into the writing without knowing everything. Let the story surprise you, and it will surprise others.
4. First Drafts Are Ugly
Nobody will see your first draft. Write as badly as you need to get it done. The first draft is the clay from which you will sculpt the story.
5. Revise, Revise, Revise!
Revise your writing. Seek the feedback of those whose opinion you value. Revise the story into something YOU would want to read.
6. Have Fun
Enjoy the process. Write about the things that excite you. Love what you do, and those who read your writing will be able to tell.
7. Keep Having Fun
If you are ever stuck, ask yourself why is it that you love writing. Remember what excites you the most, and then go write about it!
- Max Kirin