So for the better part of my evening last night I spent my time creating wrestlers on my WWE 2k18 game, after somehow losing my data (I’m not bitter Sony…). Let me tell you, it’s a time consuming process when you’re trying to create your own fantasy promotion. Here’s a few pics of the chick I created.
I named her Sophia Riley. She’s a British punk rock warrior. I’m proud of this creation and currently working on her background. But sometime between deciding how big Sophia’s ass should be and making a move list that didn’t make her overpowered as hell….
I was lamenting. Over shit that I have no power over. Go figure huh? My tragic little writer’s brain was working in overtime. I’ve been on another creative binge. I should be happy about it. I’m creating my own world and making it as detailed as possible without having to worry about what others think. But I have no one to share any of it with. Yes, I do have friends that support my writing and try to offer help whenever I need it. But I feel like I can’t share everything with them. I’ve mentioned this before, there aren’t a lot of people who are on the same wavelength as me. Not since that one friend from long ago.
I started to feel lonely. Then angry. And bitter. Earlier yesterday I felt jealous of others who have no problems with connecting with people, keeping friends close, having everything they want, and doing whatever they’d like without anything holding them back. But then I remind myself that it’s better this way. How much happier would I be conforming to something? Especially when the majority of the human race repulses me on a chemical level.
In fact the more that I’m thinking back on it the louder the Green Day song plays in my head. I’m sure you know which one. The lyrics resonate with everything that I feel.
-I walk a lonely road. The only one that I have ever known. Don’t know where it goes, but it’s only me and I walk alone.
-My shadow’s the only one that walks beside me. My shallow heart is the only thing that’s beating. Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me. Till then I walk alone.
Pretty sure I’ve just embodied the ultimate package of a writer’s cliche.
Nobody to understand or appreciate the things I create. Nobody to make time for me. Nobody to see, listen, or truly accept me. Nobody in this reality of flesh, blood, chaos, death, and decay. Just me and a million of imaginary friends that live inside my head.
In a way this gives me more motivation to move forward and deal with things. You’re gonna have to excuse this melodramatic statement, but here it goes…
I refuse to have my thoughts and ideas die with me. My dreams will not stay as dreams. And if I’m forced to do things alone then so be it. These feelings of loneliness and negativity suck, but not as much as people do these days.
These feelings I will embrace and turn them into power, motivation, and creative fuel as well.
Everything and everybody else…fuck them. Chuck it in the “Fuck It” Bucket and keep it moving.