Inspired by Inktober: “Teeming” (Day 13)

Well right now, I’m teeming with anxiety about having nothing valuable to say about this prompt. That feeling is stacking on top of some latent self-doubt about whether or not I’ll even be successful as a writer, and it’s making me feel like I have nothing to work toward. I believe every word I’ve written so far has been garbage, and that each word from here on out will continue to be garbage. I’m sure it’s far from being garbage, but hey, it’s the teeming anxiety. I guess I can just blame that. Is it even to blame, though? Or is that just becoming a good scapegoat to cover up for a deeper problem? 

I wish I was teeming with anything other than the current feeling of helplessness in the lack of inspiration that I feel. There are at least feelings in pity, self-doubt, and depression; for me right now, it’s just a fat pile of nothing. There’s nothing happening in the well of inspiration other than it becoming much drier. The thing is, there are a lot happening in my life (mostly unfortunate things, if I have to be honest) that should fill me with every ounce of inspiration I would ever need. Yet, here I sit, forcing each singular word out of my mind as if it forgot how to craft words into stories, like it thoroughly enjoys. Why the hell are brains like this? You have these wicked cool creative things you enjoy working on, and your brain periodically thinks “hmmm, nah, not today” so conveniently when you finally make time in a hectic schedule to work on them. Excuse my “French,” but it’s bullshit.

I love creating, and I love writing, but I loathe moments when the lack of inspiration takes over everything. All day, my mind runs through the coolest lines, the coolest ideas, but I get the fewest opportunities to feed into the inspiration the moment in happens. It’s as if my mind selectively decides when to throw out its creative spark plug, and it couldn’t care less about how much work it takes for me to go and find it, again. Hopefully it shows itself before I sit myself in front of a blank word document, again.

You don’t deserve this garbage, but I guess I don’t, either.

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