I feel invisible…

I can’t seem to tell if it’s just the way I’m aging, or if I’m actually kinda losing my mind. I’m staring a cup of coffee, black, no creamer, and I’m instantly snapped to focus on something else. As if the urge is telling me that I’m out of focus, out of energy, that I need to get back to the basics of who I was before the internet came along and shrouded me in the never ending parade of stupidity, videos, and various little obsessions that never amount to much more than a bad headache and lost time.

I can’t really put a finger on it, or maybe I can. I’m trying to search for something, anything to write about that isn’t main stream, that makes me invisible for the time being. Almost like I’m forgetting something. Something near and dear to me, something that’s always at the edge of of my thoughts, just past where the light of creativity touches, something forbidden. I don’t know what that is though, like a writers block almost? you know that feeling where you take a hard look at your life in the moment, and you think, just where the fuck am I right now?

I’m at that point, and whether I like it or not, I have a following, a slightly small one, but a following none the less.
Maybe I’m just too serious?
Too ridiculous?
Too… Me?
But I look at the posts I’ve made in the past, and wonder at what I was aiming for when I wrote those. And half the time, I’m too terrified to go through them to edit, because maybe I already know what’s lurking in the darkness of my memory of that time? An indirect trauma, a lashing of forgotten nightmares, so pent up inside a few trigger words that I might scream for help for nothing more than a few digitized words?

I don’t know if I’m being overtly dramatic or what not, but that’s honestly the way I feel when I look at a blank post, a clean slate for that precious few minutes wherein the only thing I need to worry about isn’t making a video, or starting a live stream, or even dealing with the dramas and annoyances of the discord server. It’s just a visceral feeling, like your mind finally feeling free, released, relaxed and in its own way, creative at long last.

It’s a kind of zen in a way, a way to unwind, letting your thoughts melt away into the ridiculous depths of your own psychosis, your own psychological instability directing the way you travel. Eventually you’ll get to the heart of the matte,r and no matter how much you trumpet your intentions, there’s always one thing or another to deal with. I don’t mean to be vague, but the fog of my mind will eventually clear up and we’ll get to the heart of the matter rather quicker.
I guess I’ve always been this way, meandering thoughts, loosely connected by little tidbits here and there of faceted reality that might not otherwise be known to the outside observer. But wander away we must. Not that I’m trying to figure out a deep meaningful story, or waste your time. I’m just traveling my own path, and if for some reason you seem to be aligned with me, for whatever length of time, then I guess we’ll be travelling together.

I don’t usually get into the habit of deep intellectualism, or intelligent discourse, or something more than the garden variety idiocy that I’ve come to accept as part of of my everyday life. I just like writing, the way the click of the keyboard matches up in an awkward way with the music eventually. I know that I’m going to run out of things to talk about, or write about, or I might simply get distracted yet again.
It’s a worrisome habit of mine. And I do rather like taking the scenic route to reach the heart of the matter. But I like it, there’s no rush, no demand on my time, nothing of the sort. In fact, regarding the discord and Youtube and twitter weirdness, the fervor of the fan bases, the dumbed down regency of the varying users that tend to try and make my life a living hell… You don’t notice it here, on this blank slate of a blog post, you are truly in your own head.
Truly without a companion in the writing sense, and yet, sometime in the future, after I’ve posted and forgotten about this, a random person will read this, and I won’t even get a chance to thank them. But such is the way of things, and such as they will forever remain.

I don’t get many commenters on my posts, never have. I don’t know why that is, I guess I’ve always been a bit bad at getting a following going, despite what the numbers say on twitter, or vine, or live.me, or Youtube, audience interaction is always low. I don’t really have access to engaging topics, or even entertaining stuff. I just have to make do with my own quick witted mind and hope that’s enough…

In the end, I am alone, on my own. And while it does on occasion depress me, I never that I’ve got friends that are just a phone call away, or even fans that I can tweet at for a quick conversation. Although they only want a fan sign, or a video, or something of that meaning, they are kids, so I shouldn’t judge them too harshly. All I know is that I’m far stronger than I was when I first started writing. though I’m mostly just flailing in the darkness, I know that eventually something or someone will latch onto me.

After all, we bloggers are a lonely bunch.

Aren’t we?

 

 

 

 

 

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