I thought I’d write something just for the hell of it.
I don’t write a lot anymore besides comments on social media. I love to write though. Words have always been a place for me to feel free in that I know them well and they seem to know me.
Or I seem to know them and they are there for me.
I read prolifically as a young man because my dear old mum introduced me to it. She’s an inspiration to me and many others.
I simply devoured text from the age of about seven until now. The funny thing is for approximately 35 years it was books and print media. As a teen I would read four to six novels a month with non-fiction writing interspersed. No exaggeration, I was a reading machine. I read less as I got older but would still read a decent sized book at least every month. Then computer based literature became the norm. These days I very rarely read anything other than a screen.
I don’t feel bad about that either. I love print, don’t get me wrong. I like nothing better than to sit down in a moment and read a book. The feeling, the smell, the moment. Beautiful.
Writing seemed to be something for me to aspire to do as a younger man because most of my true heroes were writers. These days I wonder about everything. I question myself and everything.
I thought the other day I should write something and then wondered what exactly it would be.
You have to have a gripe online these days. I don’t really have one to be honest.
I’m trying harder to be a better person if that means anything to anyone. It’s difficult. I have a lot of baggage. Childhood trauma and the like. My parents parting company when I was two years old was apparently quite troublesome for the younger me.
It’s something I’m getting to grips with. I struggle feeling appreciated and respected which proves problematic for people around me, particularly my partner and my kids.
I think I’m improving though. Sonetimes I think the idea I had when I was in my mid-twenties that I’d be better off alone forever might have been accurate but then I quash those feelings. They were pretty nihilistic really.
I cannot imagine life without my little whanau. Such lovely spirits.
That said I do work everyday to check myself. It’s a difficult thing to get a handle on. I have a lot of things to work on. Irritability is a big one. I’m extremely impatitient with people due to feelings about myself which I bury.
Insecurity and fear are constant problems in my mind, which though clouded, is aways brimming with information and ideas. Insecurity and fear dog my existence with their shrill call. I doubt myself constantly and everyone else as well. More myself though.
All is not lost however. I believe in humanity and our ability to move forward into the never. We are capable of godhood, no matter what your friend says. We can be greater than anything else before us. Never give up your belief. I won’t.
Anyway. take it easy. I hope you’re well x
ill-ustrated 