I saw a post on of course Instagram and it got me to thinking about my final days on my death bed as well as my funeral. I imagined myself looking back on the things I had done and then it dawned on me that I have yet to do everything I am supposed to.
Like what if I died today?
Would my life be one of regret or remembering some awesome times?
I won’t lie, it’ll probably be somewhere between both but I’m leaning more towards the latter. However this post is about more than just me seeing the world, doing more charitable or tangible things. Don’t get me wrong and I always want to find ways to pay it forward. Besides there are things left on my bucket list to do but this post pertains to something else just as crucial…
It’s about regretting how I see myself and how the world sees me.
I created the moniker of the Drunken Insomniac Writer because it gave me a way to be me without being…well… me. Eventually I realized that I wasn’t just hiding from the world, I was hiding from myself. Looking back on life I realize that I don’t want to just live my life to the fullest but live my life to the truest.
So what the hell does that mean?
Sometime last year, I decided to revamp my blog and breathe new life into it. I felt that it was missing something in addition to floating out there amid all of the other cool ideas and things I had going on. My blog was supposed to be my go to place when I wasn’t conjuring short stories. However after leaving the world of Myspace coupled with the hectic mess of publishing my first book, I felt I didn’t know what to do with it. But that wasn’t entirely my problem.
I also had found myself free of a draining relationship the year prior to that. So what was I going to do with this free time and my blend of hobbies and creative surges?
I decided to bring them all together. I became the Insomniac Writer I knew I was supposed to be. I set a goal to write something either my blogs, reviews or whatever, everyday. I didn’t split myself or hide behind myself. Sure I was careful not to say or do things to damage my professional career but I made a choice that if I was going to write, I was going to WRITE… as well as do the other things that I enjoyed.
But I still wasn’t done. I realized that this was going to come at the expense a few things. I realized that I wasn’t going to make a spectacle of myself living this lie that I was awesome and that my life was all put together perfectly. I decided if I was going to be myself, I had to be MYSELF! Not what I thought I should be by a certain age and not what others expected of me.
Nowadays there is an epidemic of people “flexing for the ‘gram” meaning that they are struggling to live their best life instead of living their real life. Reality couldn’t be more further from being real.
Not me. Not anymore.
Sometimes we live the lie of trying to be what/who others think we are. I mean it is draining. Think about it, you put yourself on display every day to show yourself off to people just as bored and miserable as you are. Why? To keep up with people that can actually afford it.
It’s because we have trouble facing the fact our lives are boring and we’re ashamed.
The delusion of grandeur and the facade of fabulous.
I have never heard anything more ridiculous but still we do it each and every day. Keepin’ up with the Jones’s. Trying to live the life we deserve to live but cannot yet afford to.
It’s not a new concept, it’s just trending on a bigger stage
So I decided fuck that. Be me! Warts and all!
Like it, love it or hate it… This is me and I’m happy with it.
Until Next Time Kiddies,
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