I often find myself sitting in my room beside my excessively organised study and lost in my own thoughts of inadequacy. The idea that maybe whatever I do create would never see the light of the day and would simply be lost in the ether that is the Internet. Though I have this place to release my yawning thoughts and fanciful creative itches, I do find it all for nought. I suppose it is what people call "burning out".
I think I have been "burning out" for years now. There are things you would want to achieve but more often than not things just don't work out. I don't know whether to call it 'fate', 'destiny', 'shit out of luck'. But it has been long-lasting and really tiresome. To come up with creative ideas and thoughts just to intermingle and hope that at some point in time this would reach the niche audience of your kindred spirits is as far-fetched a thought as it can be. Create for the sake of creating is a beautiful sentiment but it is more disappointing than one would think. When Théophile Gautier coined the slogan, "l'art pour l'art", he definitely did not envision the Internet and the overload of similar "art". Romantic as it may be, it is foolish to believe that one's work is in any way worthy of praise or adulation. For most parts, most things are not meant to work out. That is just the way of the world. But that does not and should not deter one from attempting to reach that point of relentless creation.
In this process of this relentlessness, I find myself completely beside myself. The fact that one tends to scream into the void and often without any luck. The proverbial breaching of the glass ceiling is a vital mission that one must seek to conquer but the knowledge that one tends to be squatted away by the forces of the world surely wavers the spirit. Rejection letters are aplenty, it is hurtful to see where we could be or should be as opposed to where we are. It is easier to say "how far you have come along" when this is clearly not where one wants to be! These words of consolation do no good. It is a battle of attrition. To be or to be broken. That is the artistic survivalist. We lie in mattresses made of thorns, the daily reminder of things that did not go our way as we rest our eyes after a long-winded battle. You hate the person in the mirror, the way you look and feel. You crash and burn more often than you succeed. I have simply accepted that as the inevitability of life. Maybe burning out is the only way to know that you still have a fire burning within you.
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