17th August 2012
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((Glad to see everyone was soooo concerned. It’s good to be missed.
I’m sure you can just taste the sarcasm dripping off of those two sentences.
Or I really hope you can.
Anyway, I know I have to reply to two Americas that I wrote starters for, so I gravely apologize for not doing so sooner. Things have been a little rocky lately; please be understanding.
Also, I’m a little concerned for this muse - he doesn’t seem to be around very often, so it’s been hard to write IC, which is another reason for my prolonged absence. Writer’s block and all that.
Sometimes I wonder why I’m even here. I can’t jump ship because of one person, but that’s kind of sad - I wish my muse were more sociable. -sigh-
Anyway, just an update/explanation.
Have a niiiice day.))
17th August 2012
Link reblogged from WHAT? MENTAL? ME? with 7 notes
Sometimes I feel like we are the only ones that comfort each other on tumblr. You might be tired of me (maybe?), but hey, we stick up for each other on this website. Oh Claud, sometimes I don’t even know what the fuck I’m doing. It took…
Sometimes, I just wish I were normal. Average. I wouldn’t have such high expectations. I wouldn’t need challenges. I wouldn’t understand how big and complex the world is, so I would worry about it. I’d just be an average girl with average grades and average talents; nothing special. I wouldn’t have to search for intellectual conversations, I wouldn’t have to be so picky with friends. People would be able to understand me better. I’d make sense. Maybe I wouldn’t have been bullied. I wouldn’t have to understand what it’s like to feel suicidal. I wouldn’t be so empathetic. I’d just be this normal girl.
It’s funny how people complain about being average and not having any amazing talents. So whacked, you know? Talent isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I can write comprehensive essays, gripping novels, moving poetry, and for what? To end up being a journalist and writing about the latest Hollywood break-up? Politicians being stupid? No one here cares about the writing I do, even if they say they do. “I want to read your work! Send me a link?” “Yeah, sure; I can do that.” And I do. And I wait. And wait. They never do, you know? I ask, and they tell me, “I haven’t really had time lately, you know? I’ve got stuff to do.” Okay. That’s fine. Don’t ask about it again if you’re so busy.
Maybe it’s stupid of me to be complaining about a talent, but being a writer can really burden one with unwanted emotions and compulsions. It can drive you crazy. I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know.
So….um it’s 3:06 a.m now. I’m slowly becoming an insomniac with my per-existing health problems. Though, the reason why I’m not in bed still and trying, and failing miserably, to sleep is because I finally have an answer to your reply. I think you may have been under the impression that I have been ignoring you, but no no, that is not the case. I’ve just been dealing with some crap of my own. Nothing truly serious though!
Being average is not an asset. You get lost in the crowd. You have little individuality. Your personality will be stilted and by the time you realized that you never tried to be different or accept who YOU are, you will be unable to change. You will regret and it will tear at you until you take action to accept what makes you, Claud. I’m not trying to sound like Huxley, the author of Brave New World, nor am I trying to sound like a guru of self acceptance and acknowledgement.
Being out of the norm is an asset. You might think, “Why? I always get bullied for being myself and even then, I try to hide it”. People are always going to get bullied, whether they are smart, gay, wear interesting polyester plaid pants, or just for their personality. Now, I don’t condone bullying, but in a way it is beneficial, only if you FIGHT back by staying “abnormal”. If you change for them, you are basically accepting their mindset, that there is something wrong with you, and there isn’t.
As for feeling and needing to be suicidal, much of that comes from the acceptance that you have the flaws and that you can’t fit in to society. Of course, that is not the only reason. There are many reasons to feel suicidal, but the most common reason is that you feel insecure, that you don’t fit in. I’m not sure about your case and what drove you to become suicidal. I don’t want to know. What’s important is that you don’t feel suicidal now, and that you accept whatever you may see as a flaw as part of your personality that embodies Claud. Though, don’t think your battle with depression is a flaw as well. Look at the people you saved, saved from making that fatal jump. You expressed how happy it made you feel. How uplifting it is to save someone that was going to take their own life. It takes someone who has previously battled depression to understand many of the signs that are naked to people who never thought of taking their own life.
Picky with friends? That’s perfectly fine. I know I’m not your friend and I’m okay with that. You actually evaluate everyone before you approach them or strike up a conversation, right? You’re not a social butterfly; I am not one either. Is that bad? NO. That’s actually great because you will actually have friends that care for you and will want to talk to you when you are hurt. They will also know the signs of when to avoid you because you need the time alone to reflect. They will do anything in there power to help you because, guess what, they love you. Now, let’s say you have 900 friends from facebook that you met at a party, gathering, school, sports competition, etc- which, in my hypothetical situation, did not truly want to get to know you. How many of those so call friends are going to help you when you need it? They won’t recognize the sign that you have a problem scratching at your brain. They won’t recognize that fact that you are suicidal. In fact, let’s lower the friend bar down to 100-relatively low for Facebook. I’m willing to bet less than 5 will actually be there for you. Those <5 people are the people you were picky with. You only gave them information about yourself until you were sure you could trust them. BEING PICKY IS THE BEST THING THAT CAN HAPPEN TO YOU. That’s the reason why Hope was there to save you. You were being picky.
Talent, in my honest opinion, is a wonderful gift. It adds to your character and creates and shapes your future. Who says you have to write about a gay cactus or a lying unicorn (Okay…okay, I just need some humour in here. [x] )? Who says you have to write about the broken relationship of Bradgelina? Who says you have to do anything like that? Society? Well, you can tell society to shove those demands up their ass. There is no point in using your talents just to make you miserable. None. You write what you want; fantasy genre, U.K/U.S fanfiction, anything. Viable living……yearly income……Yes, we actually have to care about that shit. So, now you have to compromise. You have to A. either find a job that you will actually ENJOY that makes enough money for you to live comfortably or B. Slave over the mundane tasks and take your dream into something you can do on the side or C. Pursue your dream and not give a rat’s ass about that. You can choose any of the above and you can still do the work you truly admire to be doing. Being a writer has a lot of open possibilities; you could go into journalism (health, reviews, local news…etc.), editorializing, become a published author, a publisher, a teacher/professor, etc. There are so many possibilities, but all of the possibilities will require some form of sacrifice. It’s up to you to make that decision.
Also, about people ignoring your work…This is TUMBLR. The people can be a great big bag of dicks sometimes. What they did to you was unfair. They were too lazy and did not want to fulfill a promise. People are jerks. People are the epitomy of douchey-ness. So, a suggestion would be to switch to another website of budding writers and post your work there. All those writers have the same goal; they want to be critiqued and become the best they can possibly can be. They will hopefully do a beta for a beta sort of trade.http://education-portal.com/articles/40_of_the_Best_Websites_for_Young_Writers.html
Okay, so I guess I should at least attempt to go to bed. It’s four a.m. now. I hope that helped and I hope you don’t think I was ignoring you because this thoughtfulness actually hit me at night and even if I wasn’t borderline insomnia-tic, I probably wouldn’t be able to sleep until I typed this up.
Also, please ignore the incoherency. I’m really sorry.
Cheers and good morning.
I would never think you were ignoring me. I figured you had your own life to get on with; we all do, after all. With school back again, I, too, will be quite consumed with work. I have resolved to try harder this year. I don’t feel that crushing weight of depression anymore. I have enthusiasm. Motivation. I’m not as insecure as I was last year.
Which brings me to the matter of talent. Of being gifted. The thing is, all that you’ve told me; I’ve known it all along. Sometimes, I deny to myself the truth; that in the end my abilities are worth their weight and pain. I can write, and it’s the greatest joy in my life, despite the occasional dips into self-doubt. Writing makes me happy - when I write, I am in my element. When I talk about my plans, about my characters and the setting and the theme of my various projects, I become a confident person. You’re right; my individuality is my greatest strength. I truly ought to remember that more often. Sometimes, I question myself - dark times indeed. Yet, when I come out of that tunnel and into the light, I look back and laugh at myself.
More often than not, people feel the need to end it all due to pain. Pain in every sense you can imagine. Every single thing about living becomes painful; everything about you is suffering. I know it; I’ve felt it and I can see it in those who struggle. They simply can’t see, can’t imagine anything could ever improve. It’s like nothing will ever get better. They’re stuck running in circles. The hardest thing in the world is proving to them that things DO get better. I have the experience; I know the truth, but how to I convince them? Taking my word for it is no easy task; I’m sure. Yet, when I do make progress, event the smallest of steps, it’s a grand achievement. They may circle on back to those dark thoughts, but I don’t plan on letting them go so easily, when I know the span of a few years can be all it takes to turn everything around. You meet the right people, make the right decisions, and it can make a world of difference. I don’t know; maybe this is a bit of a random tangent I’m going off on. I just love the feeling that I have, in some small way, made a difference.
Not my friend? That’s a little deflating to hear. Nevertheless, you are an appreciated individual in my eyes, for what little it matters. Speaking with you is good. You are right yet again; I AM picky with my friends. Introverts tend to be. I also tend to remember even the ones that didn’t stay. I remember every single person who’s ever entered and touched my life in even the slightest way. Even if you drift off sometime in the future, I won’t forget you. Ah, yes; there are those with a hundred friends they hardly know; I have but few close friends I know many things of, and in turn they know me well enough to understand how I operate. You are quite on the mark! Fortunately, I don’t believe they will be needing to talk me out of suicide or any such form of self-harm, but it is good to have them there when disaster strikes, or good fortune comes my way. It’s good to share these things with close friends.
(FYI, I got that joke about the gay cactus and lying unicorn ;P) This year, I’m gonna get my head in the game for real. This year, I plan to do some serious writing. I want to publish a book, before my grandma passes away. She’s so proud of my talents; I should at the very least do something with them. And, perhaps, I will have to take up jobs I will not enjoy for the first stretch of my adult life; getting myself stable will greatly aid my writing career, I should think. I don’t want to be stuck as a cashier or working at a fast food restaurant, but big things often things have small beginnings.
Actually, it’s not Tumblr. I don’t share my work on Tumblr very often. It’s people I know IRL. Family, friends, classmates. They ask me face to face if they can read some of my material. I see them, every day, and think, “You let me down.” What can I say? I didn’t tell them they had to read it, but hell if they say they WANT to, then I expect them to REALLY want to. It’s not Tumblr that’s giving me trouble; it’s the people around me - that’s why it’s so hurtful.
I also hope your sleeping patterns improve! That sounds awful. My brother is an insomniac, and he hasn’t slept in two days since school’s started - I can’t believe he’s still walking around, to be honest.
No need to apologize - night blogging will be night blogging. We’ve all looked back at posts from midnight and wondered what possessed us to write in that manner or about that topic.
14th August 2012
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((I also remember saying something about ‘nobody caring’.
Hey, look! It’s true!
Anyway, I’m back… for a while.
My new blog got a fuckton of followers; like 76 right now, while this one… only 54. Huh.
The fuck up with that, man.))
11th August 2012
((I may leave the RP scene for a few days… I think I’m kind of fed up with a lot of things right now, and for once RP isn’t helping and is actually making it worse. Goodbye, for a while…
…but I’m sure I won’t be missed.))
11th August 2012
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((Please, no one kill themselves today, alright? Not IC, not OOC… I’m going to cry a river and drown my hometown if you do.
Not that anyone cares what I think or say, but I’m just putting it out there.))