I was meant to write about a creative project I decided not to let die.
I really cared about writing this piece. But something very difficult came my way and I needed to pause everything in order to talk it through.
It went very deep. Touched upon so many of my insecurities, my trauma, pain from all the lives I've felt I've lived in my almost 3 decades in this planet.
So I couldn't get myself to write anything. Nor do anything at all, really. I reverted back to scrolling, mindlessly distracting myself with whatever felt like valuable. Whatever kept me from looking at the hour, and remembering the promise I made.
Conversation winded down, and while crisis wasn't solved, it arrived at good port. To what cost? My ship was wrecked and I couldn't get it to move.
Yet I still had to write.
It's 2.46am and here I am, just writing the thoughts that come to me. And a huge part of me gives me resistance, tells me that there's no point in talking about my own feelings again. This is too personal, it must have zero value outside of venting.
Yet I still have to write.
And I decided writing was good enough. No matter what, no matter how. I can do it better tomorrow. I can actually write about what I aimed to write.
Today, right now, I write. Because this was the promise to me, and this is who I want to be now. A man who keeps the promises he makes to himself.
This is who I write for. Myself. And all the people I've met that would do better if they learned how to keep the promises they make to themselves.
