I am not an author. I haven't published a single book nor do I have a single story completed.
I don't even think I'm a writer. I've written concepts and planned stories only to delete them. The only place my writings are readable are the depths of my memories when I wrote them.
There are many reasons I can think of, as to why I'm neither a writer nor an author. It's actually quite simple. Writing is more of an outlet and my last shred of hope.
You see, writing wasn't my original goal, nor was it my passion. I liked to read, but I never read as much as I do now. What I truly wanted to do was create.
Now, writing is a form of creation, however, it never crossed my mind. I wanted to create videos. What I wanted was to entertain.
I looked up specifically to youtubers. A variety of them, but most of them are the ones that are nostalgic to my generation. Those that inspired me ranged from DanTDM, Jacksepticeye, Markiplier, and so many more.
That was who I wanted to be.
I loved games, I was good at them, so why didn't it work? Before I used to blame my parents for being strict or for the fact that it was luck-based.
Now when I'm older I've realized the only person I can blame is myself. Truth be told, I was capable of making videos but I found excuses in everything. I live off of excuses.
If I could better myself, if I had the answer to success right before my eyes. I'd still find a way to turn it away and create an excuse as to why it's impossible.
Why?
Maybe it's because I have no confidence, maybe I lack the willpower, perhaps I'm too pessimistic.
Whatever it could be, I just know that I need to do something with my life.
The world is unkind and I let it beat me down.
When I realized that becoming a youtuber would fail, and already had failed—I chose the next best option. Music. Music is something I listened to avidly, so much so that you could compare it to a drug addiction.
I was also heavily inspired by my favorite artist Josh A. In terms of lyrics, it was like I was listening to my reflection speak.
In my mind, I thought, "if he did it, why can't I?"
That was my mistake. I oversimplified the production of music and believed it would be simple. However, I lacked voice and talent—even the work ethic to produce a simple beat.
I gave up.
Music wasn't for me, or rather, I didn't have the will to make music. So I told myself it wasn't for me.
There were no more options. I was out of ideas. I had no purpose and no idea what I wanted to do. Then, almost coincidently an angel was sent to me.
I believed that love would save me, it would help me find meaning, purpose and a reason to live. It worked!
Not forever, though.
Truth was, love wasn't for me. It was my first relationship and my low self esteem consumed me. Jealousy and anger. I was a shit partner. Talking about it is pointless as in the end the past can't be undone.
I will simply carry my mistakes and understand that relationships are not for me. I can't love myself, so I cannot love someone else. I denied it, until I lost the love of my life.
I hurt her, I hurt a lot of people. I was hurt. I will carry the burden of my sins, my shame, and embrace it until the day I die.
That was it, my meaning was gone. There was one glimmer of hope, however. Writing.
During my relationship I at some point fell in love with literature. It ranged from classics to japanese light novels and manga.
Due to this interest, I tried to write. This was my glimmer of hope. However, I can't write. I'm neither an author nor a writer. Even if I could hope to find success, I could never call myself successful, nor an author, nor a writer.
My third person lacks prose and vocabulary. It's also impossible to tell what I'm trying to convey. Now, art, or creativity is supposed to be subjective and up to interpretation.
However, there is also still a major distinction between abstract or experimental, and just straight up inadequate and untalented work. That is what I am.
As for first person. What could I say?
My first person writing could be considered an improvement, however it lacks personality. I bleed into my characters and my work simply becomes long monologues of ideas that I want to convey.
Even if people loved what I wrote, I don't think I'd accept it until I, myself, saw that I was good at what I did.
You see, this can be seen in my personality. When it comes to games, I know I'm good. Not because people told me. Because I bore witness to my own success. I always stayed on top.
My friends couldn't match me. I saw visual proof and confirmed with my own eyes that I was good at what I did.
The same would go for writing. The day I write something and I think, "this is it. This sounds right, and this is a story that I wanted to convey this idea with."
That is the day I could call myself a writer or an author.
This is my way. These are my ways.
I have an ego, I aspire for greatness. I would even step on people's toes if it meant going above and beyond. It's human. We are all human.
However, it is unlikely I'll ever be equal to any of the greats. I'm far too pessimistic and self-doubting. Perhaps I even have narcissism buried deep under my skin. Perhaps I have BPD and I'm doomed to sway here and there.
In all my life I've never written anything I liked. However, there is one line that I live by. One line that sums me up as a person. That was:
Certainty of my downfall was more comforting than the uncertainty of my success.
Now what is the point of this? Why have I written these last one thousand and fifty five words for? Is it because I'm searching for my reason to live? To gain pity?
Unlikely for the second part. I don't know if I'll show this to anyone, and if I do, it's simply to see what they think afterwards. I don't even know why I want to know. I just do.
Maybe this was a soul search. Maybe this was an attempt at finding a reason to live. This was a jumble of words to see if I truly want to write.
So the question is, do I?