Diary #1: My inner thoughts; how I feel about writing for work and not for fun

Usually, when I wanted to write on Medium, I made sure that I had crafted the information architecture. What I would talk about; the big idea; what I would say after saying this topic; A; B; C; how long it should be; and the list went on.

Not today.

I put on the melancholic Spotify playlist (it’s super great, by the way) and I decided to just click the Write button without any idea in mind. I just wanted to get something off my chest — I wanted to get everything out off my chest.

I used to write for fun. I used to pride myself for being able to write. But everyone can write these days. If the only one thing I’m good at is being taken, then what am I?

Maybe it’s not about other people also doing what I’m good at. Many people can be good at one same thing. Maybe it’s just my ego wanting to be the only one. To be chosen, to be looked up to.

But I’m not that great though, am I? I mean, who gets to decide that I’m that great? Maybe job titles do. I’m a junior writer now, and there are hundreds of thousands of senior writers out there. Which means I’m still at the lower bottom. So why am I even talking about being great?

Maybe it’s because the one thing that I (like to think that) am good at is the thing that I do for work. I no longer write for fun, I write to live — literally. To pay the bills. When it becomes a necessity, I no longer have the privilege to do it for fun.

I used to be able to write novels. They aren’t published, they are rotting in my folders instead. But what I’m trying to say is that I used to be able to write thousands of words without frustration. And now I’m trying my best to not stop writing this article just because I don’t know what to say. Or more like I don’t know how to say things.

I just forgot. Why do I do that?

I want to be special. I want to feel special. Not saying that I’m not grateful for everything that I have achieved so far, but I want to feel special. But unfortunately in order to do that, it requires the help or validation from someone else. Why can’t I make myself feel special? Because if I do, I’ll just repeat what I mentioned above: feeling like I’m great, and then realizing that I’m not.

I don’t know what could help me right now. Logically speaking, yeah, talking to a psychologist might help. But no, I don’t want that.

Now it sounds like I’m having problems that I don’t want to solve. Yeah, maybe I am.

Maybe I just needed to get this into writing, making it real — making my feelings real.

Maybe once I can see that they’re real, I no longer imagine the worst case scenarios and focus on how to fix them.