apr. 10th, 2022
i used to wonder why people wanted to write for a living, why they envisioned a life where they were free to write whenever they wished and got paid for it.
i wondered if such a life might get boring, and how one might handle the monotony.
but then i started working, and as silly as it sounds, i wish i was home, writing.
trading your time for money isn't a way to live. i'm not even sure what to call it, but this — whatever it is — isn't living.
the cycle between long hours of work and then even longer hours to recover from the mental exhaustion from work leave no room for people to actually live life.
either you're working or you're preparing your body and your mind to work again.
which leaves no time for writing.
and, suffice to say, i'm writing this at nearly midnight when i should be sleeping to get ready for my shift.
but sleep is less important to me right now than writing and getting my voice out there. i'm just mentally exhausted and it's hard to do things with low energy.
i'm not sure if there's even a point to this piece anymore, but i guess if there is one, the point is that i understand now.
i understand why people want to write for a living, and i think maybe i'd want that.
at least it sounds better than what i do now. even so, i'm not sure what i want.
i just know that if this mental exhaustion continues, my creative well will dry up and writing will be even harder than it is.
and for as long as i can remember, writing has always been my passion.
but who am i, if i'm not a writer?
YOU ARE READING
arcane magic
Short Storya book of poetic ramblings, where words have the power to make us feel both lost and found all at once. an exploration of what it means to be alive and feel things and why we're here.
