I am not planning when I am going to start YouTubing.
I’m not planning on NOT doing it either.
Why? Because plans come with pressure and anxiety, at least for me. And they create a bottleneck in time where my evil side knows if it can just keep me too freaked out to do it at the appointed time, I will give up entirely and not try again for a long time if ever.
The only solution, then, is to refuse to plan. It will happen when it feels like happening. Probably some time soon, but not necessarily.
Waiting is fullness, as the Martians say in Stranger in a Strange Land. Things will happen when the energy is right for them and that’s fine.
No need to rush, or linger. Waiting will fulfill.
I know I am still feeling restless and bored and sometimes mad at the world. Thoughts like “I hate everything and everyone” and “life is stupid” and “I don’t fucking CARE” are fairly frequent in his haunted head of mine lately.
Fine. Bring it.It’s all part of my powering up to break on through to the other side.
Try to hide
I am on a collision course with my own evolution and gaining speed. And I don’t give a fuck if it hurts or if I go a little crazy from the crash.
Spiritual growth never comes easy. It comes from overcoming the very structure of your psyche in order to become fluid enough to assume a new, superior form.
That shit has got to come at a cost.
Remember, for every butterfly born, a caterpillar dies.
And I am very very done with being the world’s oldest caterpillar. I am quite willing to take the plunge and become whatever is next. I am incredibly sick of my life as it is right now and so really anything new seems pretty god damned good to me.
Time to give birth to my next form, then.
Or at least a whole new version of me. Fruvous 2,0, now with content instead of just a lot of aimless potential.
Or maybe it will be just another goofy ass thing I do that only my friends see and that I eventually get bored with and stop doing.
Even then, it would be worth it just for making my life better for a while. Giving me a feeling like I am doing something instead of just marking time till I die.
I will at least try a few things to promote my new content. I am well aware that my lack of self promotion is a major Achilles’ heel as a creator and that the way forward means going against every avoidant personality disorder instinct I have and actually doing things to deliberately attract attention to myself.
Just typing that gave me the cold sweats. As much as I want love and fame and money, the unhealthy part of me wants solitude, obscurity, and unlimited autonomy.
Victory, then, consists of letting the healthy side of me win.
Even if that means filling myself up with starry eyed dreams and not letting pesky old reality bring me down any more.
Turns out you can be way too realistic for your own good.
I’m as surprised as you are.
More after the break.
Too little too late
This is gonna hurt.
As I think I mentioned before, I talked with my mother last Thursday. And for the most part I loved it. It always makes me so happy to hear her voice. For the half an hour or so we talked, I was a happy little boy who basked and preened in the glow of her warm, loving personality once again.
But then the very last thing she said before hanging up snapped me out of that mode and brought me to an entirely different place. A much darker place.
What she said was, “I’m glad I had you!”.
To which a dark and bitter voice in my head said. “Sure…NOW. ”
Yeah, NOW you’re glad you had me, when it doesn’t cost you anything. It’s easy to be happy you had me when it makes you feel good to say so. There is no problem expressing gratitude now that it is far too late.
But that doesn’t change the fact that I was not treated like you were glad you had me when I was a kid, Mom.
Because you weren’t. That’s the bald truth of it. Nobody was happy I was around. Not you, not Dad, not my siblings. Nobody.
To everybody that mattered, I was an intruder who forced himself on them and was therefore barely tolerated and then, only if I did my best to help everyone forget that I even existed at all.
And it pains me to no end to have to say it, Mom, but that includes you. Once you went back to work, you treated me like an embarrassing inconvenience like everyone else.
Not in words, of course. Heaven forbid. If you had actually expressed your impatience and contempt out loud, you would have had to admit it to yourself and hence take responsibility for it, and there was no way I was worth that kind of effort.
But it’s how you treated me, Mom. You and everyone else. The underlying assumption was that I understood that I wasn’t wanted or welcome so obviously I would do everything in my power to minimize my impact on your life.
And boy did I get the message. To this day I feel like I have no right to even exist. Like my very existence is a horrible crime and I should be ashamed to live and breathe and take up space because I deserve absolutely nothing.
Ergo, absolutely anything I get is by definition undeserved.
So yeah, I am glad you’ve stopped regretting having me. It beats the hell out of the alternative. And I will always love you as hard as I can, Mom. You are and will always be the number one person in my universe.
But i am still carrying the pain of all those years of being the unwanted child.
And nothing you can say now will make that pain go away.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.