“the trouble with everything always is nothing’s just right,
just to figure out nothing could keep you up half the night
not to know what you want is a terrible thing you should fight
you just suffer the face of the dark while you wait for the light”

I’ve been trying to dig up bravery to write something real for a couple weeks now. The problem is that I’m not quite sure how to put into words exactly what I’m feeling. I don’t know if there’s truly a point because I haven’t figured it all out yet. I guess maybe that is my point? …That I don’t know what the point of anything is right now.

Maybe part of growing up is accepting that your grand purpose in life isn’t so grand. And maybe not so purposeful either. I know I’m really like… ALWAYS spewing crap like this, but it’s been a long time since I’ve felt this aimless. Over the past year I think I was pretty much always motivating myself – there were ideas, there was connection, there was hustle. It dissolved with the passing of the new year and I’ve yet to find it again. I mean, is that possible? Have I lost my hustle? 

It’s terrifying as hell to think about giving up, but I’m on the edge, guys. I spend so much time and money and words and thoughts and emotions… what is that for? Is it to add to more of the pretty waste of the world? Is it to feel like I’ve made a mark on the Atlanta community? And I know what you’re thinking. You’re wondering how someone like me can feel so down and out, especially when appearances tell you otherwise. Well, I think I’m just tired. I’m tired of chasing the dream without even knowing what that dream is. It’s like I’ve caught a terrible case of senioritis. Right when I was maybe on the verge of making all of it happen, I let myself fall apart inside.

I’m writing as if you and I are having drinks, like this is confidential. But I’m keeping it public on here because I do want to be honest and transparent. This blog was always a way for me to sort my thoughts out and I never want to stop using it as that. These thoughts are real, happening right now, and affecting my world in a big way. Being an artist is hard. Being an adult is harder. Trying to be both at the same time, I haven’t figured that out yet.

I want to give up. I won’t, but I want to pretty badly.

You ever felt that way?

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