I’m very simple, actually.
I like the simple things. Saying things without elaborating endlessly. Staying true to my intent. I hate editing. So much that I rarely do editing. At the same time, I can’t see a spelling error of mine without feeling the need to instantly correct it. Be it the smallest matter ever in a text message, or some really stupid mistake in a big assignment. They matter the same to me. But that’s all the editing I do. I can’t be bothered with errors that don’t jump directly at me. And that might be my worst trait, that I can be so carefree when all I really care about is my writing.
And it’s all a defense mechanism, I know. It’s been this way for some time now. I know that, if I don’t edit my writings, there will always be more potential left. So no matter the reaction I get from people, I know deep down that I never gave it my all. If I get a great reaction? I feel like I’m the best ever, because they like it so much and I didn’t really work on it. I must be a natural. If they don’t like it? I know it’s just because I didn’t give it my all, it’s not because I can’t write. And this way I will never get anywhere, because most of it will be pretty good, but only a very small portion of my writings will be exceptional, which they have to be if I am to reach the level I’m striving for.
Summed up, that more or less means that I have to get over myself. I have to start put some work in, even if that means editing. EVEN if that means taking criticism to heart, because something just wasn’t all that it should be, though I gave it my all. I need to understand, that not every poem or novel is as moving as the best one. And that that’s okay. That that is what makes you a better writer. To show your weaker sides, listen to the criticism and work at it. Only then can I evolve.
And that goes for my entire being, not just my writing.
I need to let my flaws show. I’m keeping myself from living, because I stay away from the situations that scare me. Silly things like having a job, taking an education, traveling. Sometimes even just being with people, which is horrible because I only really ever live when I’m with the people that drive me. The people who know how to do something with their lives, who know that the world doesn’t stop just because you do, and therefore don’t stop because they need to see it all. The people who just can’t let go, who want to see it all, feel it all. Be a part of it all, make everything and everyone a part of them. Those who go hitchhiking all through Europe, with nothing but a bag and a pair of shoes. The people who I always dream I could follow from town to town through the paths of the World. I love those people. They make me feel so dull, but by God, they live! They make me want to live, and for a few months, when I can hang on to them, I live. I live.
I have found my latest couple. Not the traveling kind, but the artistic kind. I can honestly say that I’m in love with them both. In love with their company, their apartment, their paintings, their music, their relationship, them. And I love that they love me. Well, it feels like love. Good, old fashioned love for another soul, another mind. I hope these two will stay with me for the long haul, because they make me live.
They make me think. Of their lives, of mine. Of my writings, of the music I listen to. I’ve even began teaching myself to play guitar. I’m re-freshened, I’m new. And other people notice that about me. They say I seem happier, more alive. More attentive, which is true: I have rediscovered the ability of attention. I’m now, for the first time in a long time, able to actively listen to and answer a person, sharing my own thoughts. Where earlier, I would’ve normally kept my thoughts to myself. Afraid of speaking my mind, for what would my thoughts speak of me? What would be illuminated? What secrets could I no longer keep to myself, were I to burst out all at once? No more of this, no more of my self-concentration. It’s the time of my life to appreciate, and let my appreciation be shown. It’s the time to be inspired, and put my inspiration into words, music, color.
Time to understand and be understood. Fully and wholly, as is only possible when all is shown. When you let people see straight through you. Into your soul, your heart. Let them know your brain and your every use of it. That’s when you let people get to know you, and only then can they love you for you.
And only then can you love you for you.
I’m finally beginning to love me for me, because I finally feel there’s a reason to do so. Because I finally feel appreciated, which is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before in this my 20-year-old life. It’s a great feeling. Everything’s upside.
And when I get used to this, which sounds extremely weird, because I don’t know if I want to get used to it, for will it not then be of no extra special meaning to me, and just another thing I take for granted? — well, when I… feel like this is something I deserve, and I can stay in my glad, focused mood for longer, then I will finally be the person I’ve always wanted to become.
And I will appreciate. And I will live. And I will love. And I will feel. Feels. Feels. Feels.
– this was a revelation written while hearing Feels, Animal Collective.