i could write…

this is the phrase that pops into my head when sitting alone with myself, digesting my innumerable thoughts and emotions, pondering what to do with all the existential energy…

and so this phrase appeared in my head minutes ago, like clockwork with enough pause and self-contempt. writing has become the antidote and the punishment..

it’s hard to find the will to write, the willingness to stare at a screen and press my fingers onto springy tiles until words flow freely into a semi-coherent assessment of my current state.

i started this blog on a whim of optimism and surge of energy. i was doing it for myself, a public journal if you will..

because to put it all out here, even if no one were to read it, makes it all feel more real, more valid, more special.

it’s a struggle to feel special these days, to not feel like a number.. the rat race of capitalism only seems to be intensifying, and with the continued rise of the internet, grind culture, personal branding, etc., it seems like we’re constantly vying for attention, proving our worthiness..

and so it makes it difficult to fathom how it is that my one voice of 7.753 billion really fucking matters.. which is, i guess, a rather individualistic approach.. to focus on my voice as one versus many as opposed to one amongst many.

(there’s probably some white supremacy in there as well..)

but growing up in the so-called United States, we’re not taught to see others’ or the collective’s accomplishments as part of us.. as our own.. so this sense of competition, this perspective of your success is my failure, is ingrained in us..

but i digress.. i guess all of this to say, it’s easy to feel like none of this matters. (which is rather cliche, i know). i guess that’s why i have to believe in something “bigger” — in energy, in intention, in the ripple effect of every little thing that happens..

because that makes typing these thoughts onto this screen and sharing them to the “world” like a wish, a spell, a gift of sorts. it is a little slice of me joining the sea of the internet flowing between us.

i mean, it’s not like little fish swim around the big ocean thinking bout how small and insignificant they are, right?

alright, getting real cheesy now..

well, here’s to doing the shit, even when it feels fucking tiny and insignificant..

cause i mean, is soul shit really ever insignificant?

1 thought on “i could write…”

  1. Significance is subjective, and I’m glad you chose to do this even though you may have felt like no one would read this. But I did, and many more will, so thank you for this! Love your site!


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