Internal Monologue

Leave it to me to write a blog post about how much I love writing and then proceed not to post anything for weeks.  To be in honest, I’ve been in a bit of a slump lately, but I’ve decided to make up for it by posting a slew of blogposts that I’ve been meaning to making anyway.  And what better way to procrastinate for studying for finals?

I think the reason I’ve been so out of it this past month is that I just wasn’t ready for the onslaught of academic terror after that much-needed winter break.  But really, it was just prolonging the inevitable.  With finals around the corner, I knew my mental hiatus wasn’t going to last, but when I got back to school, my nightmare was confirmed.  And ten times worse than expected.  Go figure.  And me being me, instead of racking up the determination to face it all, I just sort of gave up.

Okay.  Restart.  I started this yesterday, and I put it down and here I am starting again.  I haven’t reread what I wrote before this, so if this seems like it lacks any kind of cohesion, that’s because it does.  So, I haven’t been updating lately, and all this anxiety has just been building up inside me about not being on schedule and not getting things done and putting things off until the very last minute and oh god, what am I doing with my life.  Deep breath.  Inhale.  Exhale.  Close your eyes.  I’m ready.  I can do this.  I’ve blogged before.  Why is it so different now?  The only thing that’s changed is you.  Dude, stop talking to yourself.  Is it really necessary to release your inner monologue right now?  Can you at least try to make it easier to follow?  Shut up, I’m trying to think.  No not you, reader, you stay here, I love you.  But do I really?  Aren’t I afraid of you?  Don’t I worry about what you think when you read through these slivers of my soul?  Don’t I wonder if you care if I’m here or notice if I’m silent?  Of course I do.  I care so much.  I care so much it’s illogical.  It’s not worth staying up at night for.  Or is it?  You’re a person just like me.  And you matter.  But do I matter?  And if I do matter, am I doing anything that matters?  Am I as passive as I desperately hope I’m not?  Of course I am.  I’m confusing myself.  I can’t even manage to switch between first and second person without making a mess of things.  And why are you – I – smiling deviously like you’ve just unleashed something unstoppable?  Stop that.  You are not unstoppable.  You are just a girl.  No you’re not.  Haven’t you been on Tumblr?  You have galaxies growing inside of you.  There’s no one holding you back, but you.  Why don’t you think you’re good enough?  Well, I know I’m not good enough.  Look at all those other people, who post on time, and write well; I bet they don’t spend so much time editing and reediting mistakes that no one else will notice.  I bet they don’t spend time agonizing how to phrase a sentence or whether to replace a word.  You don’t know that.  How dare you try to pile your assumptions onto someone else?  That’s sick.  You’re a horrible person really.  No you’re not.  You’re trying just like every other person in the world.  Stop pretending that you’re getting emotional.  Weakness is not the answer.  Stop worrying that you have nothing else to say.  You have volumes to say.  You will never run out of things to say.  But neither will anyone else.  Just admit it.  Other people inspire you.  Yes, inspire me to be jealous.  No inspire you to be better.  But what if I can’t be better?  What if I’ve reached my limit.  Haven’t you heard?  The limit does not exist.  What about character limit?  This is getting ridiculously long, and I’m pretty sure you forgot to use proper transitions and ignored quite a few conventions of the English language.  No one is going to understand you.  Of course not, not even I understand me.  It’s okay – it doesn’t matter.  But I matter.  No, We matter.  We have galaxies inside us; we speak infinite volumes; there is no limit to what we can do.