somebody call 911! I shot myself in the foot to get out of the creative rut i pretend college put me in, when really it's just an illusory symptom of self doubt, imposters syndrome, and fear!

I feel like I'm wasting my life where I am, doing nothing, barely making anything, and the worst part is I'm blaming it on the establishment I willingly paid. 

I know it's my fault I'm not making the most of my days, but I can't help feeling like the parameters of school (blech) are lopping off my creative limbs. But, with that said, I am someone who needs some semblance of structure lest I get too lackadaisical. I still want to have some daily purpose but I wish that purpose wasn't so annoying. It's not as if there are academic requirements at my school, I have it much much better than most, which is why I continue to know it's my fault that I feel this way. 

You have to learn to love the life that you have, not wish for a different one. If you spend all your time waiting for your life to mimic your dreams, you have to live your dream everyday. You have to take small steps to enjoy your life daily and feel fulfilled from it, and if you work at that, soon you'll realize you're living that dream. It's all down to you, not some higher power tugging strings. 

It's my fault, not my school's, because I did choose to come here. There was a reason for that, it's chill and it's artsy, I can figure my shit out. I keep kidding myself into thinking I need more time to write this, or more time to outline this, and blame my lack of creative production on the influx of my college's work. But it isn't much work and I have plenty of time, I just waste it on my phone or in TV land. 

It's fucking dumb and I'm pathetic for whining, I'm just tired and I have work due tonight and I'd rather be cozy unwinding. I have to adopt a get-up-and-go attitude which I have until I get depressed by one day when I did not practice it. Like, god, what am I doing here, trying academics. I already know what I want to do in my life, but I seem to forget I don't have the resources yet. 

This school has the resources, incredible resources, but then comes the fear, the anxious stomach-ache dread that I actually have to create and it has to be good. But it doesn't, who says anything I do needs to be good. I'm not making things for other people, I don't need to obsess and lose sleep over something that's only meant to show parts of myself I'm already familiar with. There's only production in that, not as much discovery. It's hard and it's especially hard when one cares about it. When I write a paper and an idea becomes hard to write about, I just simplify it, often with little-to-no grief because I don't really care. But I do care about creative stuff, I really do. Fuck, man. I just want to get out and do something, but I'm having trouble getting out of my own way and recognizing that the foot blocking the door is my own. 

I have one foot in the door, leading me out into the world and I have one foot blocking the door from opening all the way. I can see the hills beyond, the world that awaits me, and yet the cement that encrusts my anxious sole is fused to the ground over some foolish principle of "perfection". There's a chisel just in my reach, but every time my fingers graze it, some monstrous face pushes out of my shoulder and whispers ugly words like "you're not good enough". That dumb mouth. It has nothing to do with the school I happen to be standing in, the school has no ability to sprout anamorphic mouths out of shoulders, it's a school, it's made of brick and knowledge, not the blood of Satan. With my feet all proverbially indecisive and everything, maybe shooting one of them would actually do me some good.