There is a point on the graph of Time and Space in which Nihilism and Practicality overlap on their journeys. You realize that some activities are futile while others are simply harmful to yourself. And in that tiny point of two traits passing by, you come to the conclusion that it’s best to just stop.
A few months ago I gave up my art. It was becoming more difficult to find any kind of inspiration to draw from, and a blank page is one of the saddest sights. At first it was just a small hiatus–I’m prone to taking small hiatuses like that. Usually when I give it a break I come back more powerful and my swings could knock even myself out.
However, that is not the case this time. Ages have seemed to pass, but I’m still all dried up inside and there’s seemingly nothing to bring the dead garden back to a flourishing state.
It’s not that I don’t enjoy doing art anymore; it’s simply that I can’t seem to do it. That’s devastating to me, but understandable to my logical reaches. My brain no longer functions the same as it did a decade ago, or even last year, or even six months ago. Something has overrun the part of my mind that allowed my creativity to express itself in an outwardly manner.
That was a few months ago, though, and today is today.
Last night I had trouble falling asleep. I (literally) tossed and turned–something I don’t really do; normally I just lie there until I’ve drifted off–and I could feel the (metaphorical) bug crawling around my mind. I knew that the next day–that today–was Wednesday, my usual day for updating my blog. A number of topics sped through my head after having narrowly missed out on an extended Facebook debate with someone I love. I could easily put down in words what I might have trouble saying aloud or even drafting inside the tiny white box given to us to express ourselves by the social media website.
But why bother? The people who I’d want to read it wouldn’t. In fact, almost no one would. My blog, for a long time, has been just for me. The sporadic virtual pat on the back or comment was the icing, sure, but for years I’ve been writing for me, as an outlet. I understand and accept that when I post something here, then send the link to Facebook and Twitter, that only a handful of people will ever actually sit through the entire thing, or even click the link in the first place. This has been a weekly ritual for my own sake–a cathartic hobby.
However, I’ve derived very little pleasure from writing on my blog over the past few months. I’ve been repeating myself quite a bit (surely, even this is just a longer version of my post two weeks ago); I’ve struggled to begin pieces or even come up with something to write about; and, most of all, the things I do want to write about I either find too controversial or too complicated to completely get down on paper. I no longer enjoy it.
These thoughts have led me to a very practical response: Give up.
My life is not where I would have thought it would be, had you asked me ten years ago. I have dug my way into a scared and anxiety-filled personality covered in depression and dead ambition. I’m not good at much anymore, and the things I am good at won’t make me any more money than I’m currently making (either from my job or my once desired career). And money is imperative to living.
Just ask Donald Trump.
Therefore, it is with only mild regret that I declare my retirement from blogging, from art, and even from writing. This has been a decision coming for quite awhile now. When the one thing that once made you happiest in life no longer even makes you content, you can only let it go.
Perhaps it will come back, but I know myself and if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s giving up. I’d like to say that I’ll still write the occasional blog entry but, truth is, after this thing that has become a burden is lifted from my shoulders, I probably won’t look back.
It is time now, though, to let those of you with both aptitude for writing and self-marketing to take over or keep on. Had I ever learned to network and put myself out there, boldly or shamelessly, I may have done better, but I simply did not.
I would, of course, like to thank any readers out there, be you loyal or irregular. Every time I got a notification that someone liked a post it gave me a little satisfaction (even from the robots). And every comment, reblog, and share was appreciated far more than you might realize.
With much love,