The writer, and the writing of pure nothingness.

Have you ever felt the wind brush against your skin, like it’s an old friend who’s stopped by to say hello and tell you all about their travels? Or have you ever felt the sun glisten down on your skin, burning a hole of a memory that touches from outer layers in, and when you breathe in you can feel it flooding into your bloodstream and into the core of your Soul?

I remember somewhere that someone wrote that it’s a shame how this world has become. Where they don’t make books about just nothingness anymore. It reminded me of the show “Seinfeld”, and when I watched episodes of “Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee”, Jerry Seinfeld and his guests talk about how his show “Seinfeld” really changed the way television is produced, written, and created. That it was just a show about, well, nothing. It had absolutely no purpose, other than to entertain. No major deaths, no major drama or catastrophes. Just light-hearted comedy of the daily life of a mediocre comedian and his no-body-in-fame friends. Those who also looked acted, and dressed like “everyday people” as well. This makes me think about how we come into this life for a purpose, and to share that type of purpose with others. We all can learn from each other, but we don’t have to put pressure on ourselves or others to follow the same path. And with the popularity of self-help and encouragement, we have out there nowadays, the pressure on us to “get help” to talk and listen to others is stronger than ever. And then we also have a wave of people who loved the help they got and feel the only way to feel fulfilled is to go out and do the same as their ‘leader/mentor/guru. We are creating a cycle of dependency on other people/places/things. And don’t get me started on the comparison train we have going on in the internet/social media scene. And I speak completely out of my own experience.

I was first taught to always listen, do the right thing, and do as you’re told and then I will succeed in life. But that backfires once you grow outside of your authority figures, and become an authority figure. And the scariest kind of authority figure – the one that is in charge of your own self! I’ve learned a lot about myself, especially lately when people tell me that I need to make decisions for myself. The concept of structure is so foreign to me, and I’m all over the place with it. But I am getting help, and I am doing things that make sense. Or at least trying.  And trying to balance my wants, needs, and order is probably the strongest lesson I’ve broken down to learn these days. There is a struggle too. Struggle to keep my art alive, and also the fear of wasting/losing time.

You see, if I know one thing about myself, I am a writer. I am a natural-born writer. I learned to write before I could speak. Which I know sounds strange, but hear me out for a minute. Finding my voice, and verbally speaking up for my needs, wants, and even communicating through verbally spoken words is still a work in progress for me. But when I write, I learn to understand myself. I can start writing about nonsense, and then somewhere along the lines of sentences and passages of paragraphs, I find my answers. I get to complete and solve these puzzles we have created in this life. But to speak about them, that means the other person/people on the other end would have to understand where I am trying to start and work through where I am trying to go, and however I end up – that type of magic, well I just know how to do it best with my mouth shut and speak through words on paper..or screens. The genius that comes a long this ride can only flow freely (for now) through my writing. I feel at peace when it’s all done, and even at he start and in the middle. It’s so easy to feel like even if I didn’t have much money or things or success or people, if I could write, that’ll still bring me peace.

Writing is like a purpose to for it’s purpose. No need for a real end goal or to have success, fame, or money. It’s not even about creating drama or displaying any form of elaborate word flow. It’s just doing something because you know it’s your thing, and without doing it, you feel incomplete. And when you do it, you feel complete. Actually, when I write I feel more connected with the world too. Like I can somehow be myself.

I may not know what it is that I would write and publish just yet, but I do know that when writing, it makes me feel free. Funny enough it frees me, yet also connects me to others. Allows me to want both, and to move on with my time too. To that next level of the next moment in the day. Sometimes I wonder if I will write about nothingness because to actually commit to one large story..and that be the only one thing published? I don’t know if I could do that. I’ve always enjoyed short stories. Just write a few pages about a moment in someone’s life. And bind them all together in a book about nothingness, but also the feeling of everything.

I was speaking to a friend the other day when I brought up writing. I didn’t know how to explain it to her, but honestly, to me, it’s like breathing. I can write for hours if I had them all, and she said that she never cared to write. She could never think about writing daily. And I started to think…well, if I feel writing is my giving/purpose..then what could be her’s? I started to wonder what do people think their purpose is? How many people could really say that they know their purpose? Are they living it? A purpose – the reason for which something is done or created or for which something exists. I do truly believe I exist to write because I also feel like I write to exist. And most especially, is because I do it for me first. It’s the most self-ish part of me. It’s the truest part of me that I share with others.

You can find me in my words, and hell maybe at times you can find yourself in them too.