Sometimes I think about why I write. I start wondering why I go through this tedious and time-consuming process. I start to ask myself if it is worth my time and my effort and my sweat and my tears.
I start to think about stopping.
Doubt is a scary thing that creeps up on us when we least expect it.
And every time I give in to it, I feel like I’ve lost a little bit of my passion for writing.
All the gut-wrenching, soul-striking, maddening hours spent typing or composing or writing suddenly seem to have gone to waste.
But then I ask myself: what am I without it? What is my worth without the word? What is left of me if I am stripped of that thing which breathes life into my thoughts?
In every endeavor we choose to pursue, we face an uphill battle. The world seems to have decided that. And writing is very much like driving: it is pleasant and stimulating – but if you’re not careful you’ll eventually run out of gas.
And when you reach that point, you’ll stop. And once it comes to that, it’ll be very hard to start the engine and get you going again.
So why haven’t I stopped yet? Why haven’t I run out of gas?
Truthfully, I don’t know. I ask myself this question every day and the answer eludes me still.
Maybe it’s because I grew up as a shy boy and don’t usually speak my mind out loud. I may have found a way in words that is louder than my voice.
Or maybe it’s because I’m simply mad. Mad and defiant of all the things found in this world, from the trivial to the natural to the impractical to the nonexistent…I question these things and find beauty in the unsettling and unnatural.
Or maybe it is because I feel alone and writing is a good way to keep me company. Maybe it is my connection to somebody out there – somebody I already know or haven’t even met yet.
There are a lot of things that push me to write – things that range from a heartbreak to a rant in the office to a night spent at the bar chugging beer to watching a football game…
These things are the fuel that pushes me forward, and as long as I don’t run out of fuel my car will keep on going…
There is a time in every man’s life where he must look in the mirror and ask himself what is truly important to him; and once he finds the answer he must make a choice on how he wants to spend his time.
Will he spend it with the soul mate he wants to be with? Or will he spend it working long hours to earn that bit of cash to afford a new car or a new house?
Or will he spend it searching for happiness in unlikely places? Will he try to right his wrongs and aspire to be the best version of himself?
Or will he follow his passions, try to make his dreams come true no matter how crazy or unlikely they seem?
Man has been blessed with the gift of creating his choices and making them – and today, as the world heads more and more into uncertainty, we find doubt in many places: doubt in our abilities, doubt in our choices, doubt in our friendships, doubt in our love, doubt in our beliefs, doubt in our motives.
Doubt unleashes like a searing flame burning our core and ravaging everything in its path.
It cuts through anything it touches like a dagger.
I try to wash away my doubt with alcohol and love but the former only knocks me out for a couple of hours and the latter makes me doubt everything even more…
There is only one thing that keeps me grounded and that thing is writing.
And so, the car keeps running for another day…