I Don't Know Anymore

I don't know anything anymore, so I'm going to stop trying to figure things out and just float. I'm a mentally ill basket case so overthinking things is kind of my one and only skill, but I'll just have to work around that.

Y'all probably have no idea what I'm taking about, which is cool, because neither do I half the time. But lately I've been really stressed out. I've relapsed with self-harm, I've been basically having an emotional breakdown a day. I don't think I'm alone in that regard because everybody has been stressing the fuck out for...a long time, honestly.

Still, I'm at a point in my life where I never thought I'd be. I don't really recognize myself, know who I am or who I want to be, or where I'm going.

So, I guess...I'm in my early twenties?

I don't know. I didn't anticipate being this person. I can't say I hate myself, I understand certain reasons why I am the way I am, why it's so hard for me to connect with people or let anybody in, why I'm such an easier target for addiction and destructive behaviors, but understanding doesn't necessarily absolve me or make me feel any better, you know?

At the end of the day, all of the questions we ask ourselves - Am I a good person? Do I have a soul? Is there a God? Am I wasting my life? - are all in our heads, and they'll stay that way, like they always have, until we die. So it doesn't really matter.

But then again, knowing it doesn't matter also doesn't make me feel better. Or make me any less guilty for existing.

I read in this Grimes interview recently where she said something like, she's sorry she can't do anything more useful to society than sing or produce, and I can relate to that. I've never really felt useful/necessary. I never didn't feel useful or necessary growing up, but I hadn't fallen into a void of depression, apathy, and emotional trauma at that point, either, so I don't know.

This post isn't meant to sound as angsty and whiny as it does, but I find it really fucking crazy that there are people who wake up and go through their day and don't have to contend with the constant urge to end their own lives and/or do fucked up shit, that people get through a day without having an intrusive thought or purposely chasing down their own darkest memories even though they know it isn't a good idea.

I don't know what it is to not be in the middle of a crisis, because everything is a crisis for me. The fact that I exist, in this universe, in a physical human form, is a crisis. I am not equipped to deal with this shit.

I'm also not equipped to kill myself.

I mean, yeah, I want to on a daily basis (awkward lmao) but I'm not about to rush out and do it. I don't know what stops me, if it's just fear of physical pain or a natural survival drive, but something does. I'm not going to act like I don't self-harm, because I feel like hiding it does more harm than good and, honestly, I'd rather be open about the fact that if you want to even try and recover, you're going to fucking relapse a few times. I relapse. At least I'm trying to do better for myself. Which is all any of us are in a position to do, honestly.

All I'm saying is that a lot of people tell me I seem like I have things figured out, from an outside perspective. But I don't.

I'm stoned every day, I have literally one friend, who I rarely see, and 99% of my time is spent in one room, in the dark, writing or beating myself up for not writing.

I'm 21, I still live at home, I'm borderline and ocd as fuck, I'm not happy with my career, and I have zero close personal relationships.

But I'm still here. I'm counting that as a win even though I don't particularly like myself or my life, because I'm alive and I'm fighting and I'm pretty sure I'm going to look my demons in the eye and kick their asses, any day now.

I don't believe in happily ever after. I don't believe I'm going to wake up one day a month or a year or five years from now and magically be happy. But I do know that if I do wake up a year or five years from now, it's going to be the same way I do now - fighting. I know that I've been through some of my darkest moments and woken up the next morning even though ever fiber of my being was screaming that I wouldn't, or that I couldn't.

I want to be a better person, I'm fighting to be a better person, and I'm serving paranormal romance escapism realness along the way. That's all I know how to do, so I'll make it work.

The truth is I'm not writing this post for anybody else. I'm writing it for myself, to let myself know it's okay to keep moving.

The Place of Disappointment

A lot of writing Desperation comes from a place of disappointment; it's waking up and finding out you're special, you're the chosen one, there's magic around you - but it doesn't matter because you feel alienated and none of your problems are fixed and it doesn't make up for the fact that you're an orphan and your Dumbledore is kind of a grouchy bitch who has no clue how to help you. Throw in boys kissing boys, insect metaphors, and old mansions, and you've got this book.

There's this place Val, as a character, comes from, where it's all indecision and self-resentment. He feels like he's wasted precious time and he's always one-step behind, and he's suffered this big loss to the point where he doesn't know who he is anymore, if he's not the person who just. . .survives.

Essentially, what happens when you move past trauma and realize you have lost a lot of your own identity, as a person? How do you redefine who you are? How do you do it when everything around you is unfamiliar?

How do you do that while magical creatures try to seduce, steal, or murder you? That's what this is about.

It's also about paranormal romance and urban fantasy, in general. Those books have these moments where there are big speeches and romantic declarations and dramatic feuds - but what happens, in reality, when you're trying to relate these complex feelings and the words just won't come out?

How do you work around awkwardness and fear and internal conflicts in order to really, truly reach a place where you can communicate with someone? And how do you reach a place where you don't blame yourself for the past? When stuff isn't all big declarations of emotion and destiny and fate, when there are so many moments of wondering and questioning everything, how do you really fight evil or save the world? Because Val is thrust into this spot where he's got warring factions fighting over him, and monsters hunting him and harming the people around him.

He's got something, not essentially, but close enough to, a destiny to fulfill, and at the same time he's dealing with the first true romantic relationships of his life and leaving behind not only childhood, but his home.

Throw in mourning over his father, and the boy has issues. It's a dark book.

It's also a very light book, at the same time, because while so much of his story is despair, Val really comes from a place of Joy, and kind of this childlike wishing of everything to fit together and be simple and easy. He's got a kind of innocent soul, when its stripped to its barest level.

I'm in that place right now, as a writer, where his voice is starting to click for me, and the story is starting to grind together in the right way where I'm feeling the ball start to roll. I can see myself drafting the rest of this in a very timely manner before moving on the the two Dreamwalker books. AKA; projects are going well.

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On that note, you can buy the Dreamwalker novella, a standalone story, here! Or, you can hit me up on twitter here, for more talk about work, writing, pop culture, and pretty boys. (A very important subject, clearly!)