Happy Thanksgiving! I am still here. I have only recently gotten a bit of my imagination back so there is some fiction stories I feel like I want to do but am too lazy to do them. So that’s actually being back to normal. I am writing reviewers for video games and it’s fun. It’s what got me out of my writer’s block, along with going to physical therapy and being around people and thinking what their lives are like. I also plan on doing an Open Mic night one day next month, but I need to coordinate with my friend because I don’t want to be thrown to the wolves alone. There are also family issues going on because when you get older, you realize that God, if one exists, is an asshole for putting good people through terrible things.
I’m still trying to go to law school, that hasn’t changed. But reason why I haven’t been writing things about social justice is because there is so much wrong going on in the world and I am not at a stage to handle it. The world is on fire, so i’m trying to do real life things, such as not quitting on going to law school or searching next year for a non-profit to work for as a writer or Communications Director again.
But when you write, or at least when I write. It comes deep from within your soul and gut, and it’s overwhelming. The pay off of getting praise is worth it, but if I were to write stories about what’s going on right now, I would be too deep into the abyss and never leave the house because when I write, I like finding the causes and history of things. I have always had this urge to know how and why something first started. And with the world slowly turning fascist, it’s just too much research I can’t do right now.
I still keep going though, in real life. I keep fighting to be able to make positive changes in people’s lives in someway. But until I get a chance where I’m at that place, I just feel hopeless because there is nothing I can do to fix the problem, and not being able to fix things has always been an obsession of mine. I must fix things. But I’m still just a regular person with a voice for no one to hear.
But i’m still here, and i’m not going anywhere.
Now imagine me putting on shades after writing that last sentence.