Usually in my life I have a set schedule: wake up, breakfast, go to the gym, play video games, dinner, write, go to sleep. I’ve had this schedule since May and it’s been very consistent (apart from Comic-Con weekend). But throughout this static schedule one thing is always left behind. I never save time for keeping this blog up-to-date. There were times when I would have time for it but nothing comes to mind. This category is what I like about the blog (the train of thought category). I don’t need structure or an objective to talk about. Just my thoughts until they stop.
The new school year is coming up and it’s my last year at community college before I transfer. But there is a looming fear that creeps its way into my mind. It’s my last year. Usually I should be happy to transfer out but I spent at least 3 years there. I made new friends, new professors. And within two years I’d leave it behind for a new chapter. It frightens me in a way that’s ineffable. Maybe it’s the thought that I’d soon be finished with college and I have to go into a ruthless world to live the rest of my life. Sure I can go back and start another degree but for the moment I’m stuck with the one I have. A subject that I love with a passion but a fear that I can’t get a job in it or that the industry itself is a warzone. This doubt would then eat away at my schedule, taking away my writing and everything until I’m nothing but a shell of a man that should have died a long time ago.
Becoming a published author was all I ever wanted to become and every single day it becomes farther and farther away and I don’t know if I can ever catch up. All the first drafts of my Impure series were completed within a year except for the third book. It’s been at least a year and half and it’s not even close to being done. Is it just my doubts that are slowing me? Or is it the realization that my book may never reach store shelves? I just hope that one day, a literary agent or an editor sees my books and gives me a chance to make something out of myself. That my work is worth something besides filler. Something that brings people together through the stories I’ve written. Something that has drained my mental health for a while. I don’t know what I want to do with my life but I know what I don’t want to do. I don’t want to be someone who sits behind a desk rotting while other people live greater lives.
I want to be greater.