Just Write – Catharsis

I can’t believe the me that’s been living and the me I feel right now are the same person. I’ve heard too much praise. Too many accomplishments that I feel just can’t be me. I hear other people talk about him, and I envision this amazing guy that has his entire life ahead of him already mapped out. The guy who works so hard it seems effortless. The guy who everyone can count on; the one who everyone expects the world of. I want to meet that guy because he sure as hell isn’t here right now.

The guy I’m talking to can barely get his ass out of bed in the morning. I’ve asked him about his goals, and he is confused. I doubt that he’s ever had an idea of what he was doing in his life. He just went with it, figuring that something was better than the nothing he was promised. Figuring that making someone else smile was the best he could do. Keeping himself as the role model for others to look up to…even if he felt like shit…even if he felt like I do today… because he knows that life isn’t easy. He knows that we struggle, and he understands better than anyone else what it is like to not be okay and still not ask for help. Better to keep the bad parts to himself, and showcase only the things that inspire…right.

I…I don’t know how I forgot that. Maybe my up has just been too high, but I’ve always been like this: terribly depressed on another date with despair. I just never wanted anyone to see that. I wanted them to see someone who lived his life freely, carrying out task effortlessly, as if he didn’t have a care in a world because he doesn’t. Because I don’t. Because all I really want is to sit back and enjoy the good times. People smiling and children laughing; cute little animals that roam the park as the sun kisses the cheeks of everyone. Because we are temporary, and I’ll be damned if I don’t enjoy it while I can. Because I spend too many of my days locked inside of the prison in my mind to not find a day or even three to enjoy what is out there.

So I guess it makes sense, the things they say. That guy does exist. He just needed some time to rest, and he needed to remember who he was and what his purpose was. It was never about telling stories. It was always about inspiring them, becoming the catalyst for someone to do better. And whenever that wasn’t enough? Becoming a supporting character who helped people learn to smile. It’s just like he said…it’s just like I said:

The world is beautiful, even when it’s not. So wallow, but not for too long. There’s another good time waiting for you at the end of your misery…

Catharsis…

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Photo by Eric Nopanen on Unsplash

 

Motivation, or rather, a lack of it…

Motivation is….Eh. Kind of like that. When it comes to motivating myself, it just isn’t possible. You know what, that’s a half lie. When it comes to motivating myself to do things that affect only me and no one else, I suck. Needless to say, you’d think that, by that logic, I’m this awesome guy who is a self-taught multi-instrumentalist*, part time superhero and full time advocate for the voiceless. I mean, that would be cool, but my motivation doesn’t quite work like that. Sure, all those things affect other people and not just me, but not really.

I like to do things that I know will help benefit people I care about. Needless to say, I’ll work my ass off just to help someone. I’ll faithfully go through the same routine every single day, and sacrifice the few things I would do for myself simply for someone else’s happiness. I’m speaking form experience here. I’m not just saying I would do it. I’m saying I will do it, and you can know this because I have done it before. I really have to start doing a few things for myself though. I guess I am. I have more words, and I know it, but my brain is feeling a little addled.

I suppose I could conclude the post, but In order to motivate myself to write a little bit more, I’ll tell you a bit about my day today. I acquired 4 much needed flash drives, though I still need one more (which I will hopefully get tomorrow). I got all of my pictures for my AP art class organized. Now I simply need to upload everything and hope for the best score I can get. I taught myself how to play seven-nation army on the trombone.** I did my daily running (that I’ve been slacking on), and a bunch of other things that you probably don’t care about. It really isn’t much though, it would just seem like a lot if I were to type it all out. And now I am rambling on about nothing. It’s funny to ramble about rambling, and, although this is completely irrelevant, there is someone at my school named Rambo. That’s a pretty cool name to have, isn’t it? Maybe I’ll talk about names in my next post. Who knows.

I’m signing off before this gets any weirder.

* I am a self taught pianist, though I play by ear. Slowly teaching myself guitar, and I also play the trombone. The flute and the violin are the only two other instruments I want to learn.

** If you happen to be a random trombone player who knows the song, here are the slide positions: 2 2 4 2 4 6 7; 2 2 4 2 4 6 7; 2 2 4 2 4 6 4 2 7. You can go from there.