I wrote today and it was the worst writing I’ve done in a while. I’m rusty and washed up. I need motivation and a muse. Being alone and happy doesn’t help fuel my writing whatsoever. It’s as if I forget all of the pain and happiness brought to me by different people. I simply move on with my life and leave it all behind. Does this mean that no one resonates with me? Or that I have been blocking everyone out to save myself the head or heart aches that come along with emotions and emotional attachment, and in turn jeopardized my creative abilities?
I’ll blame it on being tired and distracted either way, but I think I’m slowly figuring myself out. I think I use people for self satisfaction. The attention, affection, moments, and everything in between are things I desire because they move me. Otherwise, I feel unaffected by life. In a sense I feel numb most of the time and people make me feel, momentarily anyway. That seems to be all I want anymore. I want the moments and their emotions for me, but not the person. I never want the person. How selfish of me to be cruel enough to use someone for their attention and emotions knowing that I, most likely, will not actually want the person in the end.
I’m selfishly feeding my ego by draining it out of other people. The transparent “happiness” that I derive from that is worthless in the end. It escapes me.
I have got a lot to work on and figure out about myself. I’d be less of a bitch if I could drop my ego and my need to feed it. Back to where this started off, I think I’d be more creative because I wouldn’t need a single motivation or muse as much. I’d be driven by everything around me that I hadn’t noticed before.
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