week of feb 5th

write about what ways writing plays a role in your life-- why do you like it? is it hard? what's your relationship with it? be as abstract or direct as you'd like.

I've recently been so worked up about the fact that the neurons in my brain responsible for writing creatively have been dying faster than I can keep up with. I also recently have been given a lot of tasks to write with a deadline, and my discouragement from creative endeavours has increased tenfold. It's like I have the tools to make the recipe but no knowledge on actually how to enact the steps like whisking or stirring.

Because of this, nothing in my life has felt simple.

I used to treat writing as a dumbed down activity; something I would fall back into when nothing else in my life was working out. I guess now that I've passed my need for escapism as a coping mechanism, my brain decided it doesn't need to do that anymore. Let me just get rid of this useless skill for you, thank you.

I recently got diagnosed with dyslexia. A type of dyslexia that developed with a number of health conditions I have acquired over the years. Reading is hard, and because of that, writing has become harder. I now tend to overthink words, paragraphs cross each other on the page and when I try to focus it becomes severely unpleasant. Of course, being in higher education, my brain is expected to be of above average function, so work is given to me in lengthy, towering paragraphs that shoot my eyes like daggers.

No matter what filters I put on my laptop, no matter how many timers I set for myself or even how far away I put my video game consoles from me, I just can't seem to focus.

I can't seem to write what's desirable to others.

There are so many rules that must be followed in the realm of fiction. I'm aware of these, I have years of experience. The main one being show don't tell. I used to be strict with myself when I write: immaculate punctuation, a rule of three every few paragraphs. I had a formula. However, because of the regression of my brain, even some metaphors seem to fly right past me (I understand irony, however). You can't write what you don't know, and I'm seeming to know less and less.

My energy these days has been more focused on technical matters, and I can feel my brain slowly squishing and compressing into the tight STEM mould. Even so, I'm not good enough for that part yet.

No matter what type of project I give myself, I can't get through it.

And then I started writing a novel. For myself, this time.My own world came crashing down on me.

It was cathartic, but it was also incredibly scary. These characters were once just doodles of notes that I scribbled while bored on an internship. They were built from frustration and rabid creativity. I got hot and sweaty whilst I poured out so many 'and thens' and 'what ifs'. I almost got close - so close - to the feeling I got when I won my first writing competition at age 6. I was building a world around my own world, I was seeing patterns and inspiration everywhere. I knew I would be nowhere near done any time soon as the universe grew, but I didn't care.

Most of my writing exists inside my head, as my fear of putting pen to paper and seeing the result of my visual processing disorder holds me back to this day. But with the little bits that I have written, it makes me happy to say that I feel just a morsel of pride.