Uprooting the Unkindness and Falsehood Within Ourselves
“Where cruelty and injustice are concerned, hopelessness is submission, which I believe is immoral.” - Edward Said
It’s hard to write these days. It’s even harder to live. I’m not familiar with this feeling; writing has always been my way of making sense of the world—a sort of conversation with myself before letting you in on it. Spending time wrestling with a blank page, even when it takes days to craft a single decent paragraph, is like molding a vase on a spinning pottery wheel to me—it both frustrates and invigorates me.
Recently, I’ve found myself both overwhelmed and underwhelmed by reality, as I navigate the end of a frustrating, month-long creative block. It’s as if I can’t fully engage with the world—there’s too much happening, yet the reactions from people and their responses are so disengaged. I have been writing fiction for the past month; this is how bad it’s gotten. I hate fiction; I think it’s a waste of a good experience—and I would rather make stories up than deal with what our ruling class has decided will be normal.
I’m sure you noticed the lack of my opin…
