DREAMS OF A LOST MOONCHILD

I had planned two other entries, and then hit the wall of crippling self doubt. It happens, man. It’s the catch 22 of my life you know?

On one side I am fine with talking to myself here, I sorta did it on purpose, alienating everyone around me. But sometimes it’s super hard to keep on keeping on, when you are talking to yourself only. I mean It’s not like I speak with people in real life about writing, I would never. Mostly because the ‘okay hemmingway’ jokes, and I just stopped talking about it.

So I have all this enthusiasm and ideas, that I can post here, for myself to go back and look at in some months and roll my eyes at, wondering why the fuck I would even bother.

And I have been working hard on getting shit to lift off, trying one last ditch effort to make the extra effort, being ‘brave’ if you can call it that, posting shit online, and sending shit to podcasts and stuff, thinking if I have no audience, I could perhaps slowly create a new one.

But truth is probably that I can’t. No one, not even friends who say ‘they’d love to read what I write’ or whatever, ever fucking read it. It’s just something you say, much like calling other peoples kids cute. I guess it took me some time to realise, and so I stopped asking.

I have come to the point where I just feel I am annoying everyone, I mean the last time I wrote in a group chat with some really old friends, sending them links, and no one reacted and so I took the links away, and wrote ‘sorry didn’t mean to be annoying’, and the answer fell promptly – ‘no worries’.

Yeah.

So to answer the question, why do you write? for who, and does it make a difference?

It does make a difference, a huge fucking difference. I write regardless, but I also rarely finish shit because why should I? I have nowhere to put them, and none to show them to. And I know myself, when I make something I feel is awesome, or other people could benefit from – I want to show it off, and get majorly bummed out when no one even fucking notice.

I did plan these posts, one being for graphics.

and I made a huge effort to type up a tutorial, create my own repeating patterns and whatever, cut out images for people to use or try out the tutorial with.. and I never did publish it, and don’t think I will, because why should I? No one is going to read that tutorial, and also I did sorta promise myself to keep AI art out of my blog besides the banners, which i insist on because it’s one of the few joys I have left in my online presence, And I know people hate it with the fury of hell, and so I just keep to myself, and do my silly shit that rarely leaves my computer, besides these banners, and a redbubble sticker.

Another post I planned was this one.

I wanted to say something about a pretty large project I did, which is almost done, and how to incorporate visual storytelling in your personal process. And also post the first chapter – and then I changed my mind.

And that is what I talked about before, cause I really want to show it – but I can’t even get my freaking mum to read anything I wrote. So perhaps I truly just fucking suck at it.

Yeah I think I do, and no one wanted to tell me to my face, so the safest option is to ignore it. I get it – I’m not even mad.

But it’s also why that post won’t ever see the light of day, because it’s fucking pointless. And again, people got fed up with my insecurities, my whining and bullshit. And you know what? I totally get that too.

But it also leaves me in a place where I can basically write whatever the fuck I feel like in this blog.

So who do I write for?

Me, and only me. Should you ever get to read something of what I wrote since 2020 – I don’t know what to tell you man. But perhaps I should just make myself another promise, just like with the SoMe. Might as well take myself out with the trash while I’m at it.

*no more teasers

*no more tutorials

*no more narrated videos

And should you follow this blog, I think you should just unsubscribe tbh – unless I’m caught by your spamfilter. I went from blogging about writing, and stuff that inspired, to rambling on about crippling online social anxiety, and bottomless self loathing and doubt.. I wouldn’t want to listen to me either.

yet here we are.