Reblogged: My dip in creativity

Oh Becca, this is heartbreaking, but so comforting to me all the same. I’ve felt THAT – you know. And just the way you described it – you’ve put something into words that I would never have been able to describe to anyone or anything. And that means that today, right now, you meant something for me; your writing did something for me and the fact that you exist and write…matters to me. So thank you.

Image by Enrique Meseguer from Pixabay

My dip in creativity

Posted on by beccaellenwrites

I’ve been struggling more than usual to write anything creative. I’ve even been struggling to keep up with my book instagram account. I haven’t read a book in weeks, I haven’t written a short story in months and months. I have no motivation and my ability to enjoy things seems to have dwindled.

These activities have never held any benefit to me in terms of recognition or monetary value or anything like that, I’ve always done them solely for myself. And yet. Somehow I am suddenly overwhelmed with a sense of insignificance. Everything I do is pointless. Every endeavour proves fruitless and my quality of life remains unchanged. I’m no one, doing nothing of import.

Why bother to do anything if none of it matters?

Why not spend all day sat in bed playing animal crossing and watching TV? What difference will it make to me or the world if that is all I did with my time?

I do my work that I am paid for, because it’s my job and it pays the proverbial bills. Hobbies are meant to be fun and yet for whatever reason (mental illness, laziness, feelings of inadequacy, a sense of ennui) I don’t enjoy doing anything.

My most content is when I do nothing. They day time flies when you’re having fun, well the day flies by when I have barely moved from my bed. Even the video games I enjoy are minimal effort; animal crossing, sims. Anything mindless that I can waste away doing – that is my jam.

So if that’s what I want to do, why not? Nothing else I do makes any difference to the world around me. I could spend all day working on my writing and the world would be no different from if I spent that time scrolling on my phone. I wouldn’t feel any happier in myself. Not one single person’s day would be affected.

So why am I living my life as if it all matters, as if I need to write and read books and post things online like I have some obligation to a world that couldn’t give any less of shit about my existence, let alone how I choose to spend it. Why do I have to be “productive” and what even counts as “productive”? The way I see it, me decorating my house in animal crossing is exactly as productive as anything else I do with my time.

Even exercising and travelling and broadening my horizons, that is productive for personal growth but what’s the point of personal growth? I’m not hurting anyone with my existence and I’m not benefiting anyone else by improving it. All the things I do with my time effect me and only me, and I am irrelevant to the world so why can I not just do whatever I want and waste away in my bed in peace?

Can you even waste time if your time is worthless?

Honestly, I write myself a “to do” list and it makes me think “who are you to have a to do list like how you spend your day matters to anyone or anything?”

I’m writing this because I was bored and my brain was getting too full words so I had to get something out. But I’m writing it to no one, about nothing, and it will be forever lost in the infinitive void of the internet. It, like me, will never do anything for anybody.

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