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| Blogs > LoadsofFun189 > A titacular expedition :D |
Self-worth is hard to come by.
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Self-worth is hard to come by. It’s funny where we can find inspiration in life, from a lovely tune to an epic ballad, a simple piece of paper dancing on the wind, to a little red balloon. Tonight I saw that little red balloon.. I feel like I can be honest here, with you my dear reader, I not sure why, it’s odd I know because, in life, I find myself to be shy, reserved, and not very talkative, at the very least, not until you get to know me, then I may talk your ear off.  I also find myself to be very odd, sometimes socially awkward, especially around women. Could it be a lack of experience? Have I had many lovers? No, No I haven’t, clearly for those who are asking, lol. But on a serious note, No, I haven’t. Could that be one the reasons I chose to burden myself with an existence that is writing? Probably, could be a factor amongst many others why I chose to do this, a certain longing for something that doesn’t exist, or more importantly, could never exist. Back to the red balloon, I don’t know about you, but as a writer, I view the world with a different color of glasses, rose perhaps? No, not in the slightest, though I love the beauty of things. No, I prefer black and the darkest shades of gray. I’ve had some terrible things happen to me in life, and while some have strengthened my resolve to move forward in life, I also find myself burdened with awkwardness and inexperience when it comes to certain things. What does that have to do a with a balloon? (Christ man, I can why people tell you that you ramble..) No one’s ever actually said that to me before, I invite you to tell me yourself,  What it has to do with a ballon is tonight I saw a film that made my heart melt, it was a boy with a bear, and they’d lost their way, with only a red balloon to keep them company. My fingers began to hum afterward, tis a strange to be a writer, dear reader, my hands and mind can sing, and sing with the harmony of an entire chorus of angels. Or sit idly amongst the grains of the desert, meaning I can go weeks without a single original thought. I think that’s why I admire people like the Great Stephen King who force themselves to write, I am getting to that point as well, or find myself pushing towards something like it. Only now, in my late thirties, have I become so comfortable with myself that I would dare…or even think of publishing something, which is sad, I suspect, as many great artists of the world, (not calling myself great, just speaking..) lose track of things and don’t publish anything due to fear of rejection or much more likely, fear of not being good enough. I guess that’s where this blog has been all along, for a long time I never thought I was good enough to do anything. Much less write with a gift that was given to me. Self-worth is hard to come by. It’s not a commodity to be bought in a store, we have to build it up over time, a lot like making a vase from clay, or painting. It takes time to discover the value of who we really are. And that becomes easier if we truly embrace all of who we are, the good, the bad, and the worst. There is no easy road in life, my dear friend, and if you’re reading this, I want you to know you’re not alone. I love you, and sorry if I’ve bored you. This is a vault of mine, even now, at the end of this, I worry if I’ve bored you. Funny no? But if you are still reading, I want you to know, that I love you, and everything is going to be okay. Goodnight..  |
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