unnecessaryz

My life is like a fantastically well oiled machine that seems to have been filled with sand at some point. Allow me to explain. There's nothing I love more than writing. I do it whenever I get the chance. I can take one subject, object, or sexual position and write what probably ends up being too much about it. I don't mind bragging about it because it's what I do best. But I hope you do notice the little restraints I'm making. I said it's what I do best, but I didn't say I am good at it. I just like it. My current problem is that I can't seem to use my incredible powers for anything productive. I spend all my time at work sending my friends long, stupid emails, filling out fake dating profiles, then coming here to write, all while longing to go home and writing some grand sweaping opus. My desire to do this burns bright until precisely the moment I sit down to do it, where I either return here or switch on one of my many interactive video pimps, or video games to those uninitiated. If you've ever seen the movie Adaptation, there is one part that describes me to a tit. I'm of course talking about the part where he sits down to write, then begins rattling off tons of stupid conditions he wants to meet before he actually starts to write. I've seriously had days where I'm able to convince myself that writing one page of a screenplay is perfectly acceptable right before I play nine hours of video games. Fucking sad. If I even have a real point, which I don't, it's that we all do this to some extent. The first step to fighting your demon is realizing that it's your own brain. No one can convince you of a lie better that your own mind. The only thing you can truly blame if you lead an unfulfilling life is yourself, and maybe the government. But there is one, tiny moment where you can fight back and crush this lying bitch. Two seconds before you make the lie in your head, you realize you're making it. Only at that moment can you choose to drag the lie out from behind the curtain and kick the fucking trash out of it like it deserves. I'm getting better at it, but it's been kind of hard as of late since I've completed another script and my mind has convinced me I deserve some time off. And by time off, I mean time spent slowly turning into a puddle of melted flan. Don't listen to that lying sack of shit, it only wants to keep you from being awesome.