My Journey

Accountability Mirror I did the accountability mirror, even though I thought it was cringey and dumb while reading it. I thought that this was not how it worked. I'd written down my goals before, although that was far more lax. You rile yourself up, push yourself with great effort, and make a little progress, and then you crash, burn, and fall back two steps after taking only one. That's what I did. Still, I had heard David speak, I'd looked him in his eyes as he did, and I deeply respected the man. I was determined to give this a real shot. I read the challenge at night, woke up in the morning, and when I wrote down my goals on the sticky notes, I was sincere. I wrote down all the big ones, and while speaking to myself, I gave myself tasks for the day to make progress on each one. After many years, I felt like I was making some real progress yesterday. I didn't get much sleep, and I didn't complete them all. Today, I woke up feeling disheartened, and didn't hav...

When I used to work in the kitchen, the work was simple. Show up, do as you're told, give a good service, ensure smooth operations by upholding the SOPs, go home, rinse and repeat. It wasn't easy and it was extremely tedious at times, but goddamnit it was simple. I wasn't passionate about food as such, just willing to do good work. The many months when I hated it and did not want to do it, I still showed up and did my job. That's what professionals do, you know? Unfortunately, after a good few years of trying, it seems I am still no professional writer. I struggle a lot with motivation, procrastination, and just being unable to move. I figured it was because of the industry; there aren't exactly SOPs and protocols to follow in creative writing. I thought it was a systemic issue; There was an inherent need for me to use my brain, which somehow warranted motivation, or so I thought. I figured that in the kitchen, I was simply going through the motions, just following ...

Now, now, no need to fuss anymore, see? I'm typing here. My hands are moving fast, and the words are flowing on the page. That's all that matters, isn't it? Here I've been spending my days lying back and taking it easy. That too, after hustling and rushing for what feels like way too long. Every day, getting up frantically, underslept and chronically unfit. Making my way to those dead walls with dead people, rushing to a red light. "No more!" I said. So I quit, and now I'm supposed to be working from home. But fuck it, I thought, might as well take it easy for a while. True breaks are hard to come by in adult life, unless carved out through blood and bone.  I've just been smoking up and taking it easy. Binge-watching, eating, sleeping, and fucking (my fist lol). But now that I'm forced to go sober again, my head's all fucked up. See, I know I'm an addict. I know I have issues, I've always struggled with substance abuse, but I'm sick...