it's too easy to be nothing

it's too easy to listen to music that makes you feel and makes you live and realize you'll never, ever create something like that. never bare your soul in a way that moves other people or makes them desperate to cling to what you do. is there a point? fame of any kind is fickle and full of traps and anxiety. you'll never write something like the books you read. never direct a galaxy far, far away. maybe you'll live with the small stuff. you go to a party with your scar laden arms bare and your shoulders bare in an outfit you'd never wear before, not because you didn't want to, but because you felt safe with the person you were with to do so. and even the touching; the hand petting, the nose poking, the flirting, the lap dance propositions, the loud noise and crowds of people. they're uncomfortable but you're there with her and have that. but is it what you want? you're torn because you know you have to commit to being out there, you still need friends, contacts, people to shoot the shit with, but why be here when you could be home? there are kisses and cuddles and quiet and safety. there's a place where you could maybe find some time to do what you want, your hobbies, the things you've written about you've still abandoned, like the occasional album or video game or book. but it feels different, it feels you still. you're finally you. dyed black hair and dainty clothing and all. you don't know. you never know. you won't create, you won't have a novel, a short story, an album, you won't have the time you once had, perhaps ever again, to sit down and lose yourself in The Elder Scrolls, or Final Fantasy, or listen to a bunch of albums in one weekend and really digest them, to power through an entire book in one evening. but maybe you'll have the degree, eventually. maybe you'll have the confidence to wear what you want, when you want, to tell people 'no' for the first time. she helps a lot with that. because you never thought you'd be in love, or safe at home, or happy about your future. all things are impermanent. you've given up bits and pieces of yourself to find others. you leave the halloween party holding hands, tired. you learned about yourself from it. maybe you don't need to create a book or an album. maybe you don't need to fix the world. maybe you don't need to be there for your family 24/7. maybe an occasional trip, a goal to return to a corner of the world you love, the occasional binge of some show or video game or book, some music exploration while at your computer, maybe that will be enough. because she tells you that you are good enough, whatever you are. and if you can learn to accept that, then the rest will fall into place.