"When the mind is dumb, the body suffers," said my janitor co-worker to me in Swedish. That is true.
Some years ago, I studided English at a university. I had decent grades and an excellent vocabulary. I only survived a few months before a mental illness took over. Nowadays it feels like my prime is gone. Like when I am trying to learn new things I can not do it. Getting new knowledge is like punching my meaty fists against a concrete wall.
I feel stupid. I feel as though it is very hard to learn and adapt to new writing rules. Research might as well be that concrete wall.
Perhaps my goals are unrealistic compared to my abilities? I want to be a successful storyteller with an audience.
Mind you, I am a stubborn bastard, so I will never give up writing. But sometimes it feels like an exercise in futility. But then again, I feel like I would be wasting my life if I did something more my level. I also have other plans than writing, I want to create an organisation that heals minds, I want to create a clothing brand, and I want to bring on a new renaissance. Small plans, I know.
Perhaps I am wasting my life at this attempt at success, but so what? People die every second for stupid reasons all over the world. Why can't I spend my life at something as futile as trying to become a good storyteller? Why should I do things more my level, even if that might be better for me and my body?
Nah, my mind is dumb, and my body can take it, for now.
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