I need to CREATE!

Perhaps there is such a thing as wasting time because all I want to do at this point is make things. I have spent so much time not making things that the only thing I can do right now is keep making things forever. It really sucks because I have absolutely no ideas. I have zero. I can’t even think of any kind of bullshit that I can think of. Why is this driving m e so fucking insane? I really want to know the answer. I’m not even using complicated words or metaphors anymore. I feel like I’m slowly getting stupider and stupider. I don’t know why I feel this way, but I do. I wish that I didn’t feel this way. It really really sucks to feel this way. I think that feeling this way is the worst thing that could ever happen to an artist, in fact, besides dying. I don’t know what else to say. I feel caged in by my endless need to create. I feel like the world is getting smaller and smaller. This box is crushing my freaking bones, but what the fuck do I do? Do I just keep not creating? I really can’t stand it any more. I have to create. I have to. I don’t care if it’s just a meta as fuck post like this. I have to create. If I don’t, I will go fucking crazy.

Why the fuck does the world not matter at all to me. I was about to type why does the world treat me this way, but I have no qualms whatsoever with the world. I have only qualms with myself. The only problem that I have with myself is that I’m not creating. It drives me so freaking insane I can’t even word it with words. My words are jello. My mind is turning into jello. My soul has been jello for a long time. What part of me is there left that hastn’t turned to jello?

All I can feel is this burning fire inside me that says CREATE CREATE CREATE! It’s so crazy that something like that exists. I didn’t think it was real, but it totally is. This fire burns in my belly until I start creating something. It’s possible to ignore it to the point where it almost feels like it’s not there, but it’s always still there. I really wonder if I’m even telling the truth at this point. I haven’t thought that hard of concepts like connotation and denotation in such a long time. It feels so weird to be using such standard words. I feel like the last time I learned a new word was such a long time ago. I don’t even know what’s going on in my head. I just need to keep on typing until the end of time. I don’t know if I have the ability to do it, but I’m going to keep on doing it.

Are you alive, or are you dead? The wave your brain gave to me that night told me that you are neither, but that doesn’t make sense in my current paradigm. Perhaps your paradigm is different. That’s possible. You do come from a different dimension. The alien bros you house yourself with are incapable of love, but so are so many humans in my dimension. Perhaps we should form an alliance. I think you understand what I’m talking about. I think the gloopy gorch that you’ve spent so much of your time running into has finally reached it’s collupsus.

Do you know why the psychology of your audacity astounds me so much? I wish you did. I wish you could see the look on your face when the whipped cream finally hits the fan. It’s priceless. Like one of those fisher price dolls you get at Macy’s. Were you there when we bought that huge box of them? I don’t think you were, but my memory of that moment is so fuzzy due to it being such a long time ago.

You are a rock falling down the hill and rolling into the pond. I am the pit that hold the water of the pond. Will you be my pond? My pond can only house the best of the best, you are aware. I have the best of the best going through my hair. My hair stares at you forever and ever and ever because I don’t know if you think I’m clever, but I’m totally not. I think you have the end of the wat. I am not doing this for anyone but me, but I’m going to do it anywee.