Pondering

By Frazen · Jan 18, 2019 · ·
  1. I chew my lips and touch the sleek keyboard, my fingers twitching in anticipation. The blue light of my laptop screen reflects on my typing fingers, turning them to moving serpentine skies. I am in a weird stage of my life. On the one hand, there's the internships, which don't pay me but take four days full time work, and on the other, my writing. I was feeling very down recently, and immersed myself in suicidal music, humorous mementos of the world of the dead, because I asked myself a thousand times, "Is that all there is?". I stared blankly at the unknown horizons of time. I think of my uncle who passed away recently, think of what kind of a person I'd be if I had grown old like him... I always praised him for who he was, but am I strong enough to stay in this wicked, unpredictable life until late, like he did? And if I do, what's the point?

    I can feel the time swallowing down my emotions and passions, taking my youth, taking my health. I am young but I know this won't last. What would I want to have done before my death? Write.

    There's a new short story award coming up in April, and I want to submit a piece. It's asking us to imagine the possible political/ social future of Australia, given its history... I will definitely submit something and I bet I'm one of very few people who even knows about this prize, so the chances aren't that low... yet I have no idea what to write. It's like I'm lost in this whirlwind of editors' expectations and I'm trying to levitate and drag myself out into what personally want to write. It's always good to have a think about what the assessor would like to read, but it's also important to write something you personally have some feelings for. And these days, I have feelings for almost nothing. The barbed wires of Anhedonia have separated me from the rest of the world.
    Magus likes this.

Comments

  1. jim onion
    Been there. It's a terrible feeling.

    One thing that got me out was channeling that Anhedonia into writing. I call it depression, you call it poe-tay-toe, I say poe-tah-toe.
      Frazen and Magus like this.
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