I have been listen to Sufjan Stevens a lot recently, particularly his song “The Only Thing” and “Fourth of July”. There is such a melancholy air about his songs, and it makes evenings rather strange and magical. Such is the transformative power of music.
Less depressed. In case you were wondering, I am a little less depressed than I was before. I’ve been re-reading a paragraph or two of the book I sent in, and, honestly, it’s not half-bad. If it weren’t missing a huge chunk right in the middle of it, which I sent to publishers without realising its existence, the book may be half-decent.
Enough. I’ve been talking about the book I sent in to publishers far too much recently. I can’t help feel as though my life is going nowhere. As a child, I always expected life to be filled with magic. I expected—I don’t know. Something different from the life of adulthood people all over the world lead, a life spent on work, going on holidays, eating out, hanging out with family and friends, buying a house and pets. All the normal, ordinary things—well, they just don’t cut it for me. I always wanted to be a writer, to see my books published, and to daydream and dance and sing forever and ever, with a beautiful husband and living in a house that was rather like a tiny world of books and cats. Spending my days imagining things, through writing. Visiting caves filled with fireflies, drinking in the magic of the world. And yet, here I am, unemployed, with no book contract in sight, very little money, few friends, few family members, and no handsome man in sight. It’s all very disappointing, and I hope, sincerely, that I do come across as arrogant or spoilt when I say all of this.
I am not an entirely unhappy soul, but I am a disappointed one. Everyone else seems to find life satisfying as it is, but, I’ve always wanted for adventures to happen, rather like those in movies. I want to save a planet from an alien species. I want to hunt for treasure, with a band of pirates, and fall in the love with the greatest buccaneer that there is. I want to go wandering in a midnight garden, dewdrops on all the flowers, and meet my Prince Charming, underneath an apple tree. Don’t you think? I guess that’s why we have films and movies: so the magical things we wish would happen end up doing so, but only on the silver screen. I’d like to think life will work itself out one day, like a piece of crumpled paper that gets flattened. I hope, wherever you are, that your life works its kinks out, and becomes the kind of life you always hoped to have. Life is too short not to try and live the life you want to lead, even if there is risk of failure if you walk off the beaten path.
I will get published one day, I make a promise to you. Once I put it in writing, it’s bound to happen—isn’t that how these things work? I am smiling. No. I don’t know. This life is just so interesting and horrible, all at once, I can’t even begin to grasp it with words. I feel elated after listening to a song that reminds me of a period of my life, then crushingly disappointed when I read a paragraph of one of my own books, then bored at the job agency I attend everyday, sick of taking medication for my mental illness (Anxiety and Depression), and then, in the comfort and quietness of God, silently happy again. It seems that, as I’ve grown older, I’ve only become more confused.
I hope these rambles aren’t boring for you. I can just imagine someone out there reading this, someone who is like me, who grapples and struggles with these same issues, feeling as though they’ve found a kindred spirit. It’s good, I think, to post regularly, because then I become a regular, human voice, speaking to you through the screen, bringing a little interest and comfort to the world. At least, that’s how I like to think of it. All I know is, if I were ever to stumble upon rambles like these, I would find them interesting and be greatly comforted—so, who knows, maybe there are others like me, out there. I know there are. Just by reading and replying to all of your comments, I know my words have resonated with you.
Thank you for always being there for me, especially those who take the time to write comments, providing words of solace, comfort and advice, it’s truly means the world to me. When I started this blog, I had no idea it would grow into a kind of small community, of dreamers and misfits, I really didn’t. Well. What else is there to talk about? I’m just in a very quiet, melancholy sort of mood. I get the feeling that if I posted my book online, on my blog, so many people would enjoy it—but then, I would no longer be able to get it published, because it would have already been made public. I’ve written a good book this time, and I desperately hope publishers will pick it up, I really do. Here’s to another lonely evening, spent watching romantic Hallmark movies. Here’s to living, and dreaming and loving. Here’s to books. Here’s to you, for following me on this journey.