Screaming into the Void.
Losing my Substack virginity and like everybody's first time, it wasn't pretty.
It’s 3:33 pm on a hot May afternoon. As always, I’m procrastinating all other work to find a penny for my thoughts. And even after a few hours, actually a few weeks maybe, I still haven’t found a dime on what I would like to share on my first Substack post.
But this morning I did promise myself, that I’d let go of the resistance of showing up and overcome my block of being seen/heard (or read?) and write something whether it be coherent or not, witty or not, authentic or not. Sometimes it’s just about showing up you know? After the hundred and one excuses, my ego gave me to stay in my comfort zone, I eventually caved to the gentle nudges of my heart. “Not today Mr Inner Critic and Ms Perfection.” Not on my watch I said. The adult voices that my inner child internalised, which usually have a lot to say when I’m starting something new. But deep down I know my heart knows my truth and it wants more.
What is even more? Is it a desire to be seen and heard or share and exercise freedom of expression? Writing on the internet is equivalent to screaming into the void. I guess I like the obscurity, whilst having some sort of agency. Idk I digress, I guess cause I’m still trying to find the right words to share. It’s funny how on some days the words just flow like mountain streams, ready to be emptied into a river or a lake, or in my case in the confines of my journals or the notes app on my phone. But on days like today, it feels a bit unnatural from my usual mediums, I struggle to find the right words or thoughts to share. I want to say something profound and heartfelt, but I just don’t know what I want to talk about. So in circles, I go, searching for my elusive muse. Untangling relevant thoughts and ideas from an unfiltered stream of consciousness, that is doused in overindulgence of thinking and analysing.
I guess the point of Substack is to be a little lost, neurotic and chaotic. A bit all over the place like me. Or maybe all of us no? I think we as a collective have gotten so good at putting on a show of keeping it together. The “facade” that always glistens and shines. The multiple masks we’ve learnt to rotate, depending on the mood, audience set and setting. The filters we use and abuse. What is even authentic in the world of AI? Le sigh. On that note, I shall ponder some more, to find a penny or more and be back at this writing thing with hopefully more coherence and cohesion.