You might be surprised how often I feel flat out miserable. But when I’m writing, when I’ve just finished something, I feel good. I feel alright. When I pull a few separate pieces together in a mosaic, all the pieces having something in common with each other, I feel the same way.
Or when I revamp the look of my site, or make a significant gain in followers or views.
I feel like I’m doing something that’s worth my time. This is not a sob story and I don’t need or want a shoulder to cry on. Misery isn’t the point; feeling alright is the point. See, hedonism is a highly under-rated approach to life and while I don’t use the label “hedonist” as an identifier, you can bet your ass I believe in the concept. It works. Feeling good, pleasure, feeling potent, like you’re doing something that matters, that makes some kind of a difference…
Many would argue that right there is what makes life worth living. And given how the absence of it feels, the misery, the boredom, the self loathing and dissatisfaction, I can attest to it. Without something to feel good about, something to show the world who you are, something that touches the world the way you want it to, what the fuck do you have? Nothing.
So I guess without writing, I guess I have almost nothing. I’m okay with that though, mostly, because on the good days (like today) I don’t just know what it’s all about. I am what it’s all about, personified. Sometimes I’m nothing, nobody, but sometimes…. sometimes I’m not. The more write, the more significant I become. More satisfied, more known… more real.
(Alt. Title: Life Is About Writing)