Here’s the last depressing thing I’ll post today then I’m done ok.
I don’t know how normal people react to being bad at the only thing they’re interested in. I guess they don’t really have to because normal people have more interests and ambitions and haven’t become like *gestures at self* this. But I just so wish amazing stories and pieces of fiction could inspire me but it does the exact. fucking. opposite. I experience something so amazing and instead of being like “I’m gonna write something this amazing too!” I’m just like… yeah, I’ll never write anything this good.
And that sucks, that sucks so much. And I feel like it’s because amazing stuff like this can only be created by people who are kind and smart and good and so that’s what they share with the woirld. And I’ll never be able to do that because I only have darkness in me, you know what I mean?
And all the stuff I have created and expressed being proud of, I mean… sure it’s cool that I finished them and stuff but they’re not actually good or anything special. They’re like… mediocre. And that’s probably the worst thing to be eh? And it’s always been just that, mediocre. And I’m not getting better at all.
And I feel like I’m not even trying at all. And even if I am, cause sometimes it does feel like I’m trying, it either doesn’t fucking work cause nothing’s changed or I’m not even trying in which case I’m just a lost cause. You know?
Pass Through Fire 