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So, my dad asked me today if I still write at all.

I said ‘no’, because I really don’t. I mean, on a very, very off-chance I may belt out a little something, but I’m just not comfortable doing it anymore. He said I should keep doing it, or I’d “lose my touch” (he’s one of the people who think I’m good at it, even though I’m far from ‘good’).

I’ve just lost interest in it, more or less. I don’t have much of an imagination, despite what others tell me, and what I tell myself. I can’t think up anything on my own. I always have to build off of things that other people have already made, like The Elder Scrolls, Phantasy Star, Conan the Barbarian, etc. I don’t have any good original ideas. Well, at least not any other people like.

I don’t know how people retain the drive to keep up with their passions in this depressing world we live in. My job has pretty much drained me of all ambition and energy, as is the fate that befalls a vast majority of worker-bee wage slaves.

That’s my rant for the night.

Unfair Comparison

I always get depressed when I compare myself to other people. Now, I know what some say. They say, “just worry about yourself, don’t worry about others.”

I get that, but sometimes it’s hard when you see other people with everything you wish you had. It’s a bit difficult to just shrug it off and ‘not worry’ about it. I see people with these amazing abilities. Art, music, photography, computer programming, singing, dancing, or whatever, and it upsets me. I wish I had something special about me. I’m not special at all. I have no natural talents, and I’ve tried “practicing” various forms of art and music. I can’t learn those, either. So, what am I supposed to do?

Hell, I even get upset when I see people with good, satisfying jobs. I’d kill to have any sort of job at the moment. If someone walked up to me and offered me some work shoveling horse manure for $2.00 an hour right now, I’d jump for friggin’ joy. That’s how desperate I am.

Or schooling. All of my friends from highschool are just about done with college now. Some of them are moving into really good jobs, pursuing their dreams, living their lives. And yet here I sit, the same age, if not slightly older than all of them, doing nothing, and having nothing. I don’t understand. Did I do something wrong? Did I make some menial mistake somewhere down the road that snowballed into this misfortune? It seems like I can’t crawl out of this hole.

Been looking for a job for almost three years now, since I got laid off from my last one. I’ll never forget that. I was feeling good, and had extra spending money to buy just about whatever I pleased. In fact, I had just saved up enough extra money on the side to start putting myself through college. I was excited; I couldn’t wait to get on my way to a real career. But then, I got called into the office one Friday afternoon, about a hour or two away from quitting time.

"Sorry, Nick. We’re doing some cut-backs for the new [fiscal] year and we’re going to have to let you go." (paraphrased)

I’m man enough to admit that I sat in my car and cried for a while before turning it on and driving off the property for the last time.

Ever since then, my life has been disappointment after disappointment. I had to spend my college savings on food and gas for my car, just to survive. Applied for others jobs (still am), and never got hired. Not even one single call-back, and yet other people are breezing through their lives, with little worry.

It hurts sometimes, with how unfair things are. How some people have all the talent, or all the money, or all the ease of living…and I have close to nothing. Sometimes I don’t know what to make of it. But, when I feel that way, I end up writing something like this for no one to read. But, hey, it soothes me for a few brief instances. So, I guess that’s worth something.

Writing Inspiration

I wish I could get back into writing, since it’s the only “art form” I’m even semi-decent at. Being depressed and hating yourself and your life kind of kills your ‘artsy’ interests like that, I’ve found. But, by the same token, I’ve also heard of people who get better at writing as they become sadder and sadder, which honestly doesn’t make a lick of sense.

It used to be that I’d open up Word or something and just go to town, but over the past few months, even looking at the Word shortcut on my taskbar just makes me go “ugh, no.”

Considering I’m a completely unproductive member of society and have no way to “better myself” in the social eye presently, I’d like to be able to do something (like my writing) that makes me feel somewhat useful and skilled.

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