I’m going to do some complaining even though I have no right to. Things are going decently, comparatively speaking. I’m not in one of those deep darknesses that make me feel as if I might endanger myself. It’s a softer spell.
I’m just so tired. All I want to do, and all I’ve wanted to do for some time, is sleep. But going to sleep at night makes me nervous. I don’t know why.
I just want to sit here and do nothing. For my whole life, almost. I can’t get myself to do more than the bare minimum at the moment.
I want to lie in a warm cocoon and never leave.
There’s so much pain in my heart. Just pain about everything, the whole world. Any topic I can think of, and I feel as if something about it smites my heart.
I’ve been reading over the rough draft of my novel. I think I’ve come to the end of the part I wrote during NaNoWriMo. I still have circa 46,000 words out of 112,000 left to read. I wrote most of those after NaNoWriMo, so I guess my blogging hiatus paid off. I would’ve never been able to write so much otherwise.
But the last couple of chapters I’ve read in it have been awful. I don’t know how to fix them. And now I read it, read everything, and the writing is in abysmal shape. I’m not cut out for this. It’s just not good enough, and it’ll never be good enough. All this effort I put into noveling is laughable. I don’t know how to edit. There are many wonderful books out there, and this idiotic novel will never fit in among them.
I have to put the novel away for a few days; I can’t look at it right now without shuddering at how inane it is.
Still, after a few days, this random pain in my heart (it has nothing to do with the novel) won’t go away. Everything makes me want to cry. I don’t know where it’s coming from or what it means. Nothing’s happened to trigger it.
Something whispers to me:
No one likes you. You’re weak.
The only thing for it is to maroon yourself from humanity.
I don’t care if that hurts. It’s what you deserve, and it’s not like you’ll ever belong anyway.
The world is too much. It bruises, and you bruise too easily.
I am sorry you are feeling this way. I do hope it lifts soon. Thanking of you.
Thanks. Like I said, I probably shouldn’t be complaining; it’s not *that* bad, not compared other emotional hells I’ve endured. But it’s a sort of quiet despondency, a sinking into bleakness.
Thanks for the kind thoughts. I appreciate it.
(((hugs))) Im sure it wont help, but as sad as it is, this post was beautifully written.
Thanks for the compliment and the support.
Welcome
This is so close to how I feel so often. Tired. Just tired. And wanting to be cocooned. Yet unable to sleep at night. I look at my creative writing the same way. And that nasty little voice is just a bitch.
It is helpful to know others can relate. I’ve been getting a lot of headaches lately, too. I wonder if they’re related.
Maybe the nasty voice is a bitch, but that doesn’t mean it’s not right.
I’m so sorry you’re feeling so bad. I wish there was something I could say. But, I hear you about the writing. Rereading/editing while you write is supposed to be a big no-no. Yeah, it’s so very, very true. Finish your novel, then put it away for at least 30 days before you attempt to re-read. It really does make a huge difference. I promise.
Thanks. As I said, it’s really not that bad, objectively speaking. It’s like a low-grade sort of sadness, I guess, but sometimes it carries me away.
I have finished the rough draft of the novel. But it hasn’t been thirty days since I’ve finished it, lol. I think I do need to put it away for a little while longer. I didn’t have much memory about the parts I wrote during NaNoWriMo, but I’m getting to the parts that I now do remember pretty well. So I need to distance myself from them. Then I can eventually see what I think of it in the longer run.