I just read this blog that was unexpectedly inspiring.  It’s called Epoch.  He writes about his first blog and depression, not an uncommon theme since a lot of writers battle depression like a hallmark.  I know I have in the past and found my way out as well but what got my attention was not the part about depression.  I battle my own demons and will share those pieces of my life at the right time, when I feel like doing so.

It was the feeling of defeat, a loser, a failed blogger who ends up with over 20k readers, and by the looks of it they are probably legit.  I read one piece and I was sucked in.  It’s like he jumped into my brain and wrote the same shit I think about.

The difference is that I am still not successful because I have given up over and over and over again.  I have done so many different things trying to be successful but the truth of the matter has always been that I didn’t believe in any of them enough to really give more fucks because the things I have done never felt genuine enough.

I have written as a ghost writer for pennies and fucking hated using software that would generate/spin 50 different articles that would pass the duplicate test on the internet so that I could write one article for someone and it would end up being on 20 different websites that the person I wrote for would feed into some thing that would get passed around the internet and then somehow make it to top spots in a Google search.

Unfortunately for me, it would make him lots of money and I would get pennies for my work.  Eventually I realized that it wasn’t my writing that worked, it was my careful attention to spinning articles that worked so the articles were actually crap but it didn’t matter as long as it brought money.

I have tried to sell things like Avon; a product that I never actually liked but thought, why not.  I have tried to sell DoTerra most recently and it dawned on me that I cannot sell a cup of ice water to someone in a dessert.  Eventually, I spent more money on the product for myself than I ever made selling it so that was a failure too.

I have written on websites for freelancers and for some reason, I would get a lot of traffic but never managed to make money.  To this day, something went horribly wrong and I could never collect my last check because I cannot verify my old google account even though the treasury department sends me notices to collect my check or forfeit.  Of course I have tried to collect my money but still… someHOW I just can’t.  It’s really how my life seems to work.  Like fate is a real thing and I have been fated to never be a someone.

I have had so many blogging accounts and failed websites that I still sometimes bring up a blog that I had long forgotten about and the one that did the best was the one where I was the fraud.  It was a fishing blog.  Don’t get me wrong, I do like to go fishing on occasion but most of the stuff I wrote there was research and I hated it because I could not keep writing about fishing.  I just wasn’t THAT interested in it.

I have had numerous social accounts that I basically used  to link articles in hopes that one day one of them would actually bring in traffic because they say that THAT is a useful way to bring traffic.  They never did.  Mostly I just brought controversy because when I did write what I really thought, the traffic I would get was usually from really pissed off people who had a chip on their shoulder about my very unorthodoxed thinking so I then found myself being banned and blocked or in pissing matches over the dumbest shit.

I even used to have this dream about being a real author.  Like all authors or wanna be authors,  I think one day I am going to write a masterpiece.  One day I let someone read my book.  It was called God is Zero.  It was my thoughts on the singularity being equivalent to God because zero was the all encompassing factor. Elusive but right there in everything even when it’s not possible.

Anyway.  It got ripped to pieces and the idea that Zero is God… I  couldn’t even fucking believe it when Hawkings wrote the same fucking thing.  But he was a genius with a reputation and I am a no one who used philosophical thinking as mind experiments because, face it, it’s not like I have a lab or a life or any particular achievements that would make me someone worth hearing.

I have also sat on a story that I have been trying to tell for the longest time and have re-written it so many times that I don’t want to write it again because there is no good way to tell the story without sounding like I am bat shit crazy OR I worry that I might actually be batshit crazy or it really does suck.  I never let anyone read it either so that’s my fault and I am projecting failure. OR I think there are just some things about my life that still just make me feel way too vulnerable.

So, anyway.  Again.  I read that blog all the way through and I thought, maybe, just maybe it is still not too late.  Maybe one day it will still happen.  They say that the most successful people have failed more times than they have ever succeeded and so I am still thinking this time I won’t fail.

Then reality kicks in and I don’t know what makes this time so different.  Maybe it’s because this time I don’t care. Still, I have said that before.  Maybe I just don’t care if what I write isn’t popular or about popular things or that my perspective is different.  Maybe I should care-less about the inevitable criticisms and not feel hurt by my lack of readership and just do what I do best.  Write in my journal.

I have been told that I have a way with words.  I think they usually mean I have a sailors tongue which is true but talk to me in real life, to know me, you actually have to know.  Am I a cynical bitch?  Do I get kicks out of making people scratch their heads?  Does it amuse me to  know that I can say something and when a person gets home THEN they’re like “that bitch!”? I lil’bit, yes.

Whatever the case.  It was an inspiration and I don’t know if I am not doing myself any favors by sending someone else traffic.  At the same time, I doubt it actually matters because I don’t get much to begin with…yet.

Yet.  That’s my attempt at being positive and having a good attitude.  We will see how it works out in the future.  I don’t have a forecast.  My only goal this year was to put my thoughts where they count, which is here because nothing sucks more than having a social media site filled with people who you think are your friends but never bothered, not one time, friends or family, to actually read your work.

I think that’s probably the most hurtful of all things.  I could be ignored and not care if I said something stupid but it was always the stupid shit that got people’s attentions but my real work, my art projects, my poems, my music, my literary musings.  They just didn’t care because I recognize that it’s every man for themselves or they really just aren’t interested.

Their lives are always more important and I have always been the tool that cared more about them then they ever cared about me but that was also my fault because I let it be that way.  That empathetic bone in me that sees the struggles of others and has always been there to support them EVEN when it meant that inevitably I would not get the same respect in return.

I want my friends and family to be successful and achieve whatever goals they set out for.  I want them to find their happiness too because I love them.  But for the time being, I will remember it and just keep writing.

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