Do I need to be mad to be a great writer?
And when I say mad, I mean crazy. Like, depressed. Being mentally ill is a serious issue, and I'm not trying to downplay it or something, but the most influential people on poetry and literature were half insane. They had complicated lives and history, that made it possible for them to write sophisticated messages and stories that had layers. Stories that meant something.
I'm afraid I'm too well-off, too simple and too happy to write things that are meaningful.
Life has been too easy for me so far, hasn't it. If I don't grow through hardships and stuff, how would I be able to find the words to represent the people who have actually went through troubles I cannot imagine? It would seem fake, non authentic, and I would be a ridiculous writer who pretends to understand something she has no idea what its about.
But this doesn't mean I want hardships. I don't want them. I want a happy life. Still, I'm conflicted because it makes me wonder if I'll ever be a deep writer.
And experiences. Some say the world promotes experiences as a must-have, because traveling and stuff means spending money, and spending money means some otger people are going to be happier. But do I need to have experiences traveling and sightseeing to grow my mind? What is a way to grow my mind? Read books? Is there a list of books a person must read?
There probably is. I'm just too bored to read all of them.
I wish I was more efficient. I wish this one post hadn't taken more than a week to be written. I keep pulling up my Netflix, binge-ing Brooklyn nine nine. I wish I wasn't distracted so easily, like my eyes keep rolling around and I remember some inane task I hadn't finished and right that school homework I should really be working on.
What makes a good writer?
I think writers should get their point, their emotions, their thoughts across to the readers. I think the book or story should be their connection, from halfway across the world or some period of time. Maybe I'll grow old and read back on this with surprising fondness. Maybe I'll grow old and forget all about this.
I am a teenager in a changing world, and I know I need to be up for anything. That's why I watched all that videos on media literacy and literature and psychology. That's why I am keeping an online diary, like a nerd. Or at least a dork.
But still, my thoughts are shambled and all raveled, and I wish I could see whether any of these thoughts and emotions I'm feeling has any meaning. If they will be important in the future, or is just important.
Writing gives me some satisfaction in that all these thoughts that I have-believe me what I write is like the millionth of the random thoughts I have- are going to be saved. They are going to be left to the future me, or any people who stumble across them.
And I hope that it will give me-or you a laugh. Or at least something to think about.
I am not mad. I am sane, insane in some areas like fangirling or shit, but mostly sane. My mind is balanced, in that way everything should be balanced. Light and dark, happy and sad, exciting and boring.
I am different from others in that way everyone are, and I am normal, in that way everyone are. I write and think and read and do, in that way everyone does. But I think I do some more, and I do some less, and I think that is okay because I will never be everyone else. I will be me, the center of my perspective, and that will be enough.