I’ve been doing a lot of thinking over the last few days. For some reason, I seem to have lost whatever minuscule talent I ever had for writing.
I’ve been trying to write something, anything for a few weeks and everything that is coming out is utter trash. I have to try and add about 5000 words onto my book because looking at most publishers’ requirements I’m short by that amount. It’s a daunting task.
So whatever I had going for me before seems to have left me and that is a depressing thought. Anything I try seems to unravel after a few paragraphs.
It doesn’t help that I have not got a lot of time, I’m working 60 hours a week just now then going home to see my daughter, and she likes to scream, so I haven’t got the time.
As a way to try and kick start my brain into writing again I spent a few hours on Sunday night going through every single post that I have posted on here, reading everything, and the comments (my god Kira Scribbles and I have had some very bizarre conversations in the comments) to see if I could find my talent but something strange happened.
I didn’t recognise my own work. What I mean by that is that I know the stories, I know what happens in them, and I know the characters.
But I don’t recognise myself in them. The feelings and emotions behind the stories are still there, but I don’t recognise them as being mine. I don’t know if that makes any sense
So in going through all my posts, I hit upon the ones that weren’t stories but about my life and even though I only started doing those about 6 maybe 7 months ago I still don’t recognise myself.
I know life is about change and these last two years I have gone through the biggest changes of my life……
I still feel the same, ok I’m not always angry, and I’m not thinking about killing myself anymore as I have done in the past (I’ve written about this before so won’t go into it again) but I feel the same as I ever have.
Now I have my daughter and wife, but I still feel the same as I did when I was 17, but going back and reading everything I’ve posted in the last 16 months I don’t know who I am.
This has only just occurred to me as I’m writing this post. I don’t know who I am anymore.
Is that why I can’t write anymore?
I don’t know where I’m going in life.
I don’t know what I want.
I don’t know how to be happy.
I don’t know how to be me anymore I don’t know who I am
I’m 32 years old, will be 33 in two and a bit months, and I don’t know who I am
Well then… That’s slightly disturbing.