This is not a call for inspiration. I have stopped doing that. This is, for all intents and purposes, a plea straight to my mind.
Stop. Stop this madness. I can barely take your every day tantrums, but when you step up your aggression and hold me ransom, I simply can't take it. Stop searching everywhere for inspiration. Stop looking at people and thinking if they're fit to be a muse. If they are, you'll know. Stop telling me that muses can't rescue me.
It might not make for a pretty analogy, but this mental menstrual cycle is exhausting. Like clockwork, I'm hit by this angst. First, there's the laziness in mood. Then comes the simple refusal of the brain to think up new words. Your 'skills' need serious rethinking if you're subconsciously using the same words to describe an event the second time. The worst hasn't even arrived. By now, it seems like inspiration has all but been deleted from the world. People stop being interesting. Their movements, their messages, their tactics don't trigger your mind.
Like an avalanche showing a new face of the mountain to the world, the mind reveals a nasty devil. Everyday things don't seem boring. Everyday things don't seem interesting either. The mind recoils into its corner and shuns anything and everything. The nothing-is-interesting-or-boring state is a fucking cancer. It strips you of words, emotions, feelings and worst of all, of thought.
I honestly do not know a foolproof works-every-damn-time solution for this. To wallow and allow it to take its course takes a massive toll. This needs to stop. A strong sense of resolve, however, is as useless as a machine gun in outer space.
Stop. Stop this madness. I can barely take your every day tantrums, but when you step up your aggression and hold me ransom, I simply can't take it. Stop searching everywhere for inspiration. Stop looking at people and thinking if they're fit to be a muse. If they are, you'll know. Stop telling me that muses can't rescue me.
It might not make for a pretty analogy, but this mental menstrual cycle is exhausting. Like clockwork, I'm hit by this angst. First, there's the laziness in mood. Then comes the simple refusal of the brain to think up new words. Your 'skills' need serious rethinking if you're subconsciously using the same words to describe an event the second time. The worst hasn't even arrived. By now, it seems like inspiration has all but been deleted from the world. People stop being interesting. Their movements, their messages, their tactics don't trigger your mind.
Like an avalanche showing a new face of the mountain to the world, the mind reveals a nasty devil. Everyday things don't seem boring. Everyday things don't seem interesting either. The mind recoils into its corner and shuns anything and everything. The nothing-is-interesting-or-boring state is a fucking cancer. It strips you of words, emotions, feelings and worst of all, of thought.
I honestly do not know a foolproof works-every-damn-time solution for this. To wallow and allow it to take its course takes a massive toll. This needs to stop. A strong sense of resolve, however, is as useless as a machine gun in outer space.
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