The farther I go down this journalism road, the more I realize how much longer I have to go on.
I realize if I really want this enough, I’d be happy to devote all my time to it. The people who I look up to do. But, dammit, this is just one part of me.
I can’t leave all the other parts behind. Is this what it means to grow up?
It’s been about a year since I’ve had my last major fight with depression, and things have been absolutely wonderful. I didn’t know life could be so light and living so elating.
So what has happened in the brief time that I was not being such a colossal downer?
I’ve had marvelous failures. I’ve failed to win Ustetika again, failed to get into the Varsitarian, failed to win an essay contest, and failed to submit a good, well-sourced article for internship. I’d like to think that I learned though. Little by little, I can at least keep moving forward.
I found two amazing thesis mates. We’ve gotten a really good topic for our thesis, and all the support we could ever possibly need. I’d like to hope we can do ourselves proud and make the best of it.
I think I’m becoming a little more sociable, maybe, and I think I’ve finally found it within myself to move on from some stuff. At home, I’m getting along swell with my siblings, though I still think I could use some more improvements.
I definitely am becoming more productive. At school, I’ve learned a lot about my writing, and I’ve started learning Spanish. I think I’m getting the hang of it now, but it’s been pretty difficult not having anyone to converse with. Because of internship, I’ve been writing journalism nonstop during the weekdays, and I still have some leisure time to keep to my other hobbies. I will admit though, sloth is one tough thing to remove. I haven’t finished anything I’ve begun to read for the past two months, and I haven’t drawn anything for longer.
One significant reason is Borderlands 2, a video game my brother and I are currently obsessed with. It’s been with us for the majority of the past year, and we’re still staying up late at night over it. There’s something about the art of the whole thing that just enthralls me. The visual design, the writing, the gameplay. I tell myself that I finally found the art style that I want to adopt, and this world, damn, this world of Pandora, it’s just a wonder to explore and immerse yourself in. I tell myself I’d love to design a world like that too, positively filled to the brim with excitement and color, and adventure. The game single-handedly made me a fan of the Western genre, but it’s more than that.
The DLCs are completely different worlds as well, and completely different adventures. Sailing through a sea of sands battling pirates with harpoons and anchors, brawling in a bar with drunken bikers, hunting through a dense wilderness with sniper rifles. Just… It’s absolutely the most fun I’ve had from a video game my whole life.
The writing isn’t mediocre as well. The story has a depth that is subtle, invisible at a glance, and it has a rich storyline completely in tune with the guns-ablaze type of gameplay. And damn, the gameplay. With the addition of the latest Ultimate Vault Hunter Mode, it’s been frustratingly difficult. I don’t believe there’s a game equal to it in difficulty ever since the Space Invaders era, that is not Dark Souls. Let me emphasize. It is glorious. I’m hooked enough with the game to actually feel that amazing sense of accomplishment at the end of every mission, and I feel that the difficulty lets me get a taste of the nerve-racking horror of being a soldier.
This game has been a great part of my first depression-free year in a long time, and it has been wonderful. I’ve never had so much fun.
But I do still need to balance out my life though. I miss reading.
"Close both eyes, you see black.
Close one eye. That eye you closed sees nothing"– Grenjabob, on nothingness.
"The stories you tell yourself to fall asleep, those fantasies, those are a good place to start when looking for a metaphor for a personal issue. Also, the first moment you’re awake, that’s a great time for ideas to just pop into your head. In this almost-awake state, inspiration and clean connections just seem to happen. Mid-day, you might try taking a shower. That’s always good for relaxing your mind to a near dream-state. Great ideas happen while washing dishes, too. Stephen King writes in the shower. Katherine Dunn writes while swimming laps. Like sleeping, these tasks seem to allow… something… to happen. So it helps to keep a notepad beside the bed, and in the bathroom. Also, long, boring car drives – without the radio playing – are good for creating this same kind of “trance” that allows ideas to form."–Chuck Palahniuk (via chuckpalahniuk)
I could let my mind wander around the farthest reaches of my imagination and perhaps I could stay lost there. It’s escapism again. I’m running away again.
But it doesn’t seem to be that bad. It’s not as if I hate my life the way I used to. It’s not that at all. I just want to take a break for a bit. But I wish I didn’t have to sleep.
There are a lot of things still that only I know of. The various worlds I visit whenever I space out every day. Or the weird musings of different perspectives I save for different characters. I’ve never told anyone about them because I hoped I could tell them better in words when they are in a story of sorts. A novel…
Seems pretty far-fetched now. Maybe I’m just losing hope. I’m losing time.
I wish I didn’t have to sleep and lower my ambitions in the morning so they seem achievable. I wish I could stay up and dream as much as I want. Or at least, study as much as I have to to actually have a chance of living those dreams. I’m still so very far behind, and I’m not getting any nearer.
It’s not escapism at all. It could be moving on. Hell, I’ve always used my dreams as a way to keep moving forward. I dream best awake. But maybe I just don’t want to sleep because when I’m awake I can keep you out of them.
Maybe I don’t want to sleep because I want more time to myself. Maybe I just don’t want to stay in the same place anymore. Maybe I just want to keep going.
And miles to go before I sleep. And miles to go before I sleep.
You know who you are. If you’re reading this, I hope you’re not bothered by the way I’ve been acting lately. I hope you don’t think that I’m taking advantage of the friendship we have right now to turn it into something more.
I’m not. I mean… I feel like that’s what I’m unconsciously doing but… I’m not intentionally trying to get closer to you, even if I really want to. You know I really want to. Everybody knows I really want to. But like I’ve said to everyone a thousand and twelve times and maybe more, I know that it’s over. I’ve had my chance. I accept that, and it would go against everything I’ve learned and am feeling, and everything you’ve taught me if I tried again.
Because you deserve better. Because everything we have right now is so much more worth it than the risk it would cost to appease a feeling. Because it’s just a feeling.
I can’t throw it all away again because of a feeling. I don’t even want to acknowledge it anymore. If I did, it would just be a word in a blog again. No, come on. It’s nothing.
What we have right now is awesome! I’m having an incredibly fun time with you, and your friends. I shouldn’t be even thinking these things!
I guess it’s just in my nature to hope. I can’t help myself from doing it. And I don’t really mind myself doing it. I guess that’s the problem. I don’t want to move on at all. In the smallest recesses of my mind, and heart, and in my dreams, and in the moments before I fall asleep, and before I wake up, I still imagine it being possible. But no. Come on, JB. Shut up. No, dammit.
What I’m saying is I’m sorry if what I’m doing is bothering you. Because it’s bothering me. No matter how hard I tell myself that I’m only trying not to act awkward with you, or I’m just having fun or something like that, it bothers me that maybe I’m acting on some hidden motives.
Or maybe I’m just over-thinking. Or maybe I’m just trying to persuade myself. Gah. You know what? Never mind.