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I've noticed that I can't for the life of me write anything. Whenever it comes down to writing essays at school, things just for myself, or even something as simple as text messages, I tend to just not be able to get anything written down. It's horrible. Some simple 15-minute tasks may take me hours if not days to complete all because it feels physically impossible to write down a single proper sentence. School assignments usually tend to be left to the last minute and I always end up just trying to brute force my way through them. Even when trying my hardest, I end up leaving it shorter than I should have, but at least I have something to return to the teacher.
The only time when I'm actually able to get words down is when I puke everything into my diary. I tend to use a pen or a marker so I can't erase anything and I also never read back on what I've written. My whole point is just to dump out everything that's in my mind. This weirdly works. But in reality I have no idea if the text is coherent or not. Either way a win is a win
The
weird thing is, I used to love writing. I remember it being the easiest
thing whenever I was younger. Then suddenly that skill just disappeared
into thin air. I think it happened somewhere around 2019-2020. One day I
just noticed that nothing came out anymore. Where as before I could
easily write hundreds of words down in an hour, now there was nothing. I
know it must have happened over time, but it really feels like an
overnight thing.
I guess it a lot of it
comes down to being too harsh and desiring instant perfection from
yourself. Whenever I'm trying to write I keep on deleting sentences
because it feels like they don't convey what I had in my mind well
enough. There could be another, better way to write it. So I wipe clean
what I had and demand myself to find the perfect way to word my
thoughts. But the reality of the situation is that you can't reach
absolute perfection. And if you keep on backtracking in your work every
step you take, you'll never finish it. An imperfect piece of work is
still better than nothing. Even if it's the worst thing you've ever
made, at least you can be proud of yourself that you made something. If
you just keep on creating, you'll see yourself improve over time
regardless. And there's always time to make changes and better your
work. You can always try again, if you're not pleased.
Another
thing that influences my ability to write is the crushing weigh of
other people's judgement. For some reason the opinion someone *could
possibly have* becomes so important to me at the time of writing. I
start thinking about the critique someone could come up with about my
work. How can I fix it? After all the effort I put in, it must also be
perfect. Otherwise I wasted my time and I'll know that even if I tried
my best, nothing I do will be good enough. Regardless of all that
pressure I put myself under, I actually really appreciate and enjoy
receiving critique on my work. It helps me improve. This is a weird
contradictory, but I feel like someone can perhaps relate.
Whisper
of the Heart, a movie from Studio Ghibli talks about this struggle of
fearing that your work's not good enough. I must admit, it's been a
while since I saw it and I don't remember much of the details. But I can
recall the movie really speaking to me. There's this one scene where the grandfather of the male lead compares the main character, Shizuku,
and her work to an geode. He talks about how the rock might look like
nothing from the outside but it has all sorts of hidden treasures inside
it. Only with hard work and a lot of polishing can you unreveal them.
Honestly,
I don't think I can give the movie enough justice now since I'm trying
to keep it short here. That's why I really recommend anyone reading this
to watch it. It honestly might be one of my favourite Ghibli movies.
The
last and most likely the worst thing that comes to mind is that it
feels like I'm out of touch with my own thoughts. (?) This is a tough
one to explain. The only way I know how to describe it, is that my mind
feels like a thick jungle. It's like I'm running through these bushes,
barely fitting in, scything my way through the endless vines, being
suffocated in between. It's so dense that I can't find my way around.
I
seem to have a thought, but whenever I go and try to put it into words,
it's like all the different aspects relating to what I was supposed to
say just disappear. Or worse, my thoughts just completely scramble. Each
part flying different directions. I hop around from topic to topic,
because that's how it's laid down in my own head. My thoughts are like a
pile of puzzle pieces. You have to put in so much time to see the full
picture. And even when you think finished, you notice that you're
missing a piece. I dunno, it's a struggle.
And
you know... It's probably all because of that damn phone. I wouldn't be
surprised in the slightest. I've already taken some steps to have more
distance from short-form content, social media and technology in
general. Probably should commit to it even harder. It could be the move.
Either
way I was gonna make some sort of an ending paragraph here but I got
too lazy now so I guess that's all I had to say. (I'll probably edit this later) Thanks for listening to
my odd ramble!
PS: Does anyone relate? Do you have any other ways you use to deal with this issue that I didn't mention?
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