My Whole Expanse I Cannot See…

I formulate infinity stored deep inside of me…

Nov 9

Almost forgot

Category: Life

Aside from love of the craft, I write to be known, and to make honest connections with people, that’s why I started this blog. Nobody has to read what I write, or like it, or even like me, but the writing’s always out there. Lately though, I’ve been really down on my writing, just hating every single fucking word I slam down. Which isn’t really right. I love writing, and I know there are some people who like what I write, sometimes it even helps people. The problem, a problem, is that I just hate how I feel. Lonely, bored, depressed, uneasy, functionally suicidal, afraid, it’s all me, and it all shows up in whatever I write.

For awhile now, I’ve been very self-conscious about showing these things in writing. It’s very easy to write wide open when you feel like you have absolutely nothing to lose, it’s so easy. Palahniuk writes about it, there’s a certain sort of freedom in losing all hope. It’s a horrible freedom, the sort of freedom where slitting your wrists seems like a fuckin’ awesome idea, but as a writer I could feel that feeling, write it into something, and not worry that someone I love will read it and maybe stop loving me back. You don’t have to worry about someone to lose, when there is no someone. When there is someone, honest writing gets complicated, at least to me. The thing is, and it’s something I almost forgot, if I want to feel genuine closeness to someone, I can’t stop being honest. I want the freedom found in honesty, not hopelessness. I can’t stuff things in a box, and stick that box in the attic, and expect to feel close to someone.

My writing has been the one place where I don’t hide things. I’m the sort of writer who bleeds out in words, that’s how I write. Even when I write fiction, I’m still in there somewhere. People write differently, for different reasons. I write descriptions of whatever’s in my head, dark or otherwise, because I don’t want to fade out feeling like no one ever really knew me because I never let anyone in. I’m not perfect, and I write about those imperfections. I want someone to love me, imperfections and all. I want to be worth it to someone. I’ll never find that if I’m locking things away.


6 Comments so far

  1. LauraC November 9th, 2009 4:31 pm

    Funny how you just wrote two paragraphs about hating writing but the writing in those paragraphs is genius.

    I truly believe that to find closeness with someone we must be 100% honest. That we have to open ourselves up to the getting hurt and having someone reject us. Before I found my husband, it was all a theory. Now we have been together 10 years and he knows the worst things about me (and vice versa) and he is still my favorite person.

    I really loved this post. I also understand the need to step back and take a break.

    (found your blog via This American Life, have been reading along but felt I should comment at some point. This post touched me.)

  2. Teresa November 9th, 2009 8:48 pm

    Great to have you back…for now!

  3. michael November 10th, 2009 12:38 am

    LauraC: I’m really glad the post meant something to you.

    Teresa: Thanks?

  4. concrete_bubble (kelly) November 10th, 2009 3:55 pm

    You don’t have to worry about scaring me off because you are dark. There hasn’t been a day in my whole life where I wasn’t thinking about death. I have always been in a lot of pain. Everything you just wrote, it’s like you read my mind. I feel all those same things. But I always feel like I have to act happy for people so they won’t leave me.

  5. concrete_bubble (kelly) November 10th, 2009 5:08 pm

    I’m pretty sure unicorns and leather pants would solve everything. 😉

  6. yaniris November 11th, 2009 8:43 am

    The reason I love reading what you write is because of your honesty. I’m glad I found you in this blog.

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