September Surrender: Day Twenty-Four
What I’m Letting Go
I largely didn’t do jack today. I’m officially the lamest person on the planet. I woke up way too early, made lunch way too late, played video games for far too long, and spent about two hours on the bathroom floor scrubbing the grout, hoping to return the tiles to their former glory. And my floors still look like shit. I also vacuumed one of four carpets in my apartment, leaving it plugged in and sitting in the corner, feeling like I had done enough for one day. Okay, so I didn’t do nothing today, but it still doesn’t feel like much.
I call my parents every day to see how they’re doing, and even today we were just so blah. I was on the phone for six minutes to check in to make sure they’re doing well. It seems they were just as low energy as I was today. Days like this used to make me feel bad or like I was supposed to be doing something else. But really, what else was there for me to possibly do? I look around at my apartment, knowing it’s a nice enough space, but also feeling like it needs something else in it. I’m trying to spruce it up as much as I get, do as much of a deep clean on it as possible, in preparation of something I’m not entirely sure of yet. All the while I’m begging myself not to give in and take a puff, lest I ruin my clarity for a few hours of pleasure.
There’s often times as I grump around the house, checking off my list of things I need to do, that I’ll talk aloud to myself. And it’s not little self-mutterings like I do when I’m at work. I’ll have full on conversations, pretending like I’m having a deep heart-to-heart with whoever has chosen to listen to me. I prattle on like someone close to me is there, hearing me at my most authentic and most real. It’s then I wonder if this is what it will be like when someone is actually here, if they ever decide to be, or if I ever allow them to be. I’ve never lived with anyone besides myself, so I wonder what it will be like should that day come. Would anyone even want to live with me? Why would they want to be around me for extended periods of time? What do I do when I just want to be alone and write? Will it be like permanently entertaining a house guest or am I overthinking it?
I don’t know why I get so frazzled over things that haven’t even happened yet. There’s so much else going on in the present that I forget to actually live it. Even if it means I’m just doing a few things here and there, at least they’re getting done, slowly but surely. I like to take my time, and if I can get things done piecemeal style, is that really so bad?
I need to stop thinking that my way of doing things is somehow “wrong” or incorrect. Just because it’s not how other people do it, or how all those TikTok lifestyle gurus tell you how you should be doing it, doesn’t mean my own personal stash isn’t getting me through the night. I’d love it if I could introduce someone into this world I’ve created in here, because if that were to happen, perhaps I’d be able to pick up on some new tricks and tips from how they live. And if we were to ever live together, we’d find a way that works for us. Then it’s a whole new pallet of inventory to deal with once it ships over from whence it came.
What I’ve Discovered
I unlisted all my old YouTube content for now. It’s possible to go to my channel and see playlists featuring all the old ‘classic’ rant videos which put me on the map in the early 2010’s. I think I can safely say I was a ‘pioneer’ in the ranting genre, at least from a female perspective. YouTube just isn’t the same anymore, and I’ve done countless livestreams I don’t feel like pouring through in order to see what kind of bullshit I may or may not have said. So they’re unlisted for now, and I’m not sure they’ll ever come back en masse.
I had a good time while on YouTube, as I cultivated a small following of people, a lot of whom I still keep in contact with to this day. YouTube was a way for me to really let loose and let the more aggressive parts of my personality shine. I came off as this annoyed Daria-esque girl who had an opinion on everything, but she could back it up with fAcTs. Mostly it was just me being a bitch at things I didn’t like. I wasn’t a bully, I was just a good old fashioned asshole. But that’s what the audience demanded, and that’s exactly what they got.
YouTube was different then. I really let loose with myself, and I feel like that time has come to an end. I’m sure there are YouTubers who still do what I’ve done, just sit in front of a camera and talk, but I never really had the gumption to continue it long term. I had my time in the internet sun, tried to rebrand several times, but eventually fell off the map. I’m sure if I fired up a livestream here or there, people I’ve known for a long time would come back and say hey, but as far as turning it into a career, that ship has long and away sailed. And that’s fine. What I’ve gathered about it is that my constant chiding may have been fun, but it’s not something I want to do in the long run. I can’t seem to decide what kind of internet personality I want to have, and I seem to continue on this path of being a snarky bitch, hoping the crowd in the background would give me a resounding “Ohhhhhhhh!”
But what good does that all do? Is that someone I want to teach my children to be? Just a jerk who keeps pleading with people to have conversations? These ideals seem to conflict the more I think about them. I’ll ultimately gain far more in my arsenal if I just try and knock off the dickwaddedness and actually converse with people. I know that may not get me likes and retweets on Twitter, but perhaps it’s just the time to make my ideas known instead. I’m willing to try. I can snark elsewhere. I’ll just keep that part on the shelf for now.
What I Hope to Find
There was one more thing I did today that I didn’t mention earlier. I’ve been slowly and carefully writing a counter to the writing prompt I was sent earlier this month. I’m taking my time with it, as what I was sent was incomplete. That means I have to come up with an actual ending this time around. I’m not just going to stop writing when there’s more good stuff ready to unfold. I figure it’s good preparation for November anyway, as it’s only the second short story I’ve written in the past year. The other one now lives wherever deleted items go.
The thing is I’m not sure what I’m going to do with it when it is finished. I do know I’m not going to publish it here. I’ve put a couple NSFW stories on this blog in the past, but this one seems far too personal for that. It might just be something I do for myself to prove that I can power through it. Maybe I think that by writing it I’ll be able to manifest it into reality. Though I wouldn’t mind if the masses had a chance to read it someday. Or at least a more complete story featuring what I have in mind.
It’s sad for me to know I’m still playing games in all this. I’m not making my intentions clear, and perhaps I never did. I’m just sitting on my hands until I need them to type things out. But mostly I don’t want to lift a finger. I just want to let everyone else do the heavy lifting for me until the thing I want most in life just lands in my lap. I hope one day I can look at these stacks of knowledge I’ve acquired over the years and choose the best course of action this time around. There’s been plenty of chances and plenty of times in which I’ve completely blown it. Somehow I feel that when I finish this piece, all will be made clearer than it’s ever been.
I keep harping on whether or not I “know” about the mystery surrounding this story. I think I know more than I let on. It all just makes too much sense. But now it’s time for me to fulfill my part in all this. What good is it if I’m sitting alone in a warehouse surrounded by all my stuff if I don’t invite someone in to come sift through it all with me? I like to think the time is coming. Something just keeps telling me I need one final instance to know it’s truly in stock.