I can’t help but stare out of a dirt-streaked window, watching the sun rise above the trees.
My mind is foggy as I mindlessly scroll through Twitter, looking for ideas.
Do I expect inspiration to jump out of the screen and slap me awake or is simply the path of least resistance?
If I had to guess, I don’t think anyone has ever found what they are looking for while scrolling through anything unless it’s a distraction from real life.
Instead, I should be turning my attention inwards and listening to that voice. You know, the one that always seems to be right, if only I could hear the damn thing above all of the day-to-day noise.
Once I turn down the volume, I can barely make out a few things:
- I’m afraid no one will be interested in the stories I have to tell.
- I’m afraid no one will find me funny or thought-provoking.
- I’m afraid I’ll be seen as mediocre or average.
This last one might be the worst. After all, who in their right mind would ever want to purposefully live a mediocre life?
I’m tired of fumbling from one thing to the next without having anything extraordinary to show for it — it’s as if I’m starting from scratch every single time and honestly, it’s exhausting.
Come to think of it, I’m sure others feel exactly the same way. I’m sure they would like to know there are others out there who are looking for something else, something more.
Maybe this is the only reason I need to start writing.