Earlier today I felt a genuine urge to write. Though that desire has most definitely come and gone, I still feel beholden to it somehow.
I never feel the need to write. I’m too sad, or anxious, or obsessive about the meaningless. Yet this morning I felt it.
I wanted to write about a strange sensation. One I don’t usually feel.
I was happy.
It felt near psychedelic, like everything made sense all of a sudden. Things that normally would bum me mad just floated off the shoulders, and instead of interpreting everything negatively, I instead saw the good of things, the hope of things.
It was weird, and it has passed. But I felt it, and that’s something.
The fact of the day is that I did indeed quit my job - my 9 to 5, my ball and chain, my reason for waking up and complaining the whole day through.
It feels strange given I’ve never really quit anything before, relationships included. Much like jobs, girlfriends generally break up with me. Or I marry them.
Quitting is new.
So what comes next? Well, I am going to pursue the things I care about - stand up comedy, acting, and writing. I’ve never done that before.
For the longest time I’ve felt like I was on the outside of my life, looking in, changing my exterior to make sure that everyone liked it, everyone liked me.
Why does writing this feel like a diary entry from 5th grade?
Now though, I feel for the first time in a long time that I am on the inside looking out.
What does that mean? I don’t know. Here’s what I do know -
I want to write more
I’m afraid to write more
There are a 27 people subscribed to this thing which frankly is a lot. I’m glad you are all here.
So I’m going to keep writing. Cataloging my little journey, and worrying a lot less about how it all appears, how it will be perceived by the outside, and more on how I am experiencing it from the inside.
That’s about as good as I can do in describing it today, and so that’s what I’ll do.