“… But my mind was racing. Only I wasn’t thinking about anything specific. It was just this stream of words and half thoughts, like there were thousand different channels in my brain and someone was flipping through them one after the next. I kept thinking about nothing until I was sure that if I stayed like that for another minute, I really would go crazy.” (JEFF IN SUICIDE NOTES)
Describing my feelings has always been a challenge for me. Seeing it described with perfection in someone else’s work provided some sort of validation I never thought I needed. A couple weeks ago, I decided to take a break. From writing. Reading. Practically anything that requires significant effort on my part. Spending my days watching an inordinate amount of K-Drama (which are pretty enjoyable once you learn to ignore the million plot holes in the story). Scrolling through social media – and taking the occasional walk which helped a little bit. In essence, I took a break from life. I would have done anything to put an end to the incoherent scraps of thought without beginning or end that pass through my mind every waking minute.
Why? I was drowning.
When I started this newsletter, it was purely impulsive. I had created the Substack account almost a year before releasing the first letter. You see, it has always been my belief that somehow whatever I release to the public should be exceptional. Not because of the validations that will come from it. But as a form of apology for my existence. “I am sorry for existing and being a burden to everyone. I hope my exceptionally written letters will placate you, making you feel less burdened by my existence.” Also, there were confusion when it comes to what niche the newsletter will belong to. Until the day I wrote Graveyard of Dreams. For those few hours that the ecstasy of writing something that beautiful lasted, it felt like I was given an option: Dump all your doubts and just dive into the ocean.
And I did just that. Took a dive and found myself going deeper into the ocean. Initially, it felt great - the thrill and the tension I experienced while typing away, trying to outdo myself. It was exhilarating to finally find something that felt true to who I am. Something I could spend the entire day doing and not feel time pass by. Then I remember swimming wasn’t part of my repertoire. Didn’t take long for me to realize that I was drowning all along – but was under the illusion that I was somehow swimming.
It wasn’t until I tried to swim back to the surface for a breath of fresh air that I realized I’ve been drowning all along. I could feel the random images taking a shape, the thoughts without beginning or end filling up my lungs – making it harder to breath. I knew I had to take a break then. No matter how long it lasts. No matter how much it interferes with my well-laid plans. I realized that I couldn't go far if my own thoughts and emotions were my biggest obstacles. So, this break is me trying to swim back to the surface. I still wake up somedays to find myself drowning in the ocean of my unfinished thoughts. But each day spent alive, is a day spend trying to swim back to the surface.
I will be back. It’s simply of question of how fast can I get out and learn how to swim.