Reasons to be Happy

I'd be totally lying if I said I haven't been feeling any form of post-grad depression. Yes, I know I made a video talking about how college was ruining my life and how I wished it was over. But now, things are different. I feel as if I spent the last two years crouched on a flotation device in the middle of the ocean, and now it's suddenly popped. I don't know how to swim, so there I am, slowly sinking and unsure if I can take care of myself.

But, in the midst of my ranting and crying and complaining, I've had to stop and remind myself that I should be happy that I have these fears and problems. So, here is an incomplete yet honest list of reasons I have to be happy.

1.) I'm happy I woke up this morning.

2.) I'm happy that I had food to eat and grape soda to drink.

3.) I'm happy I got to spend the entire day online, watching videos and blogging.

4.) I'm happy that I can apply for jobs online, in the comfort of my home, and not have to drive or walk around town to do it.

5.) I'm happy that I have loving parents and a boyfriend that care about me deeply.

6.) I'm happy that I have sight, vision and hearing.

7.) I'm happy that most of fears have never actually come true.

8.) I'm happy that I can list reasons to be happy.

These 8 things are not everything. Not even close. But I seriously get into these dark depressive moods that are hard to shake. I don't like letting it get this bad because it stops me from doing the important things that I should be doing, like LIVING.

What are you happy about?

Just One Thing

Words.

I need them to form to make something valuable. Something concrete. The words don't come. Even when I call them, they don't come. I sit here, wondering, when will I make something that I can be proud of? Will I continue to add to the dreck in this world or can I create something wondrous?

I'm trying. Or, at least I think I'm trying. I think that I'm making huge strides because my laptop is powered on and I have a guide book. I think I'm making progress because my fingers are hitting keys and sentences are forming. 

That doesn't even make sense. What does that even mean? And how am I supposed to make anything at all when I cringe at the sight of my own work. I read something I wrote and I hate it. I look at something I made and despise its existence. What do I do with that?

I'm hoarding little pieces of genius everywhere. Scraps of pages with half a verse of song and notebooks with half written stories. I don't finish anything. Afraid to complete the work because I think all my effort will be in vain. 

The alternative then is to never finish anything. Instead of working hard, I'm hardly working. Instead of completing an imperfect piece of art, I'm collecting half-finished nothings. 

I just want to finish one thing. I just want to get one thing done -- that's all. If I finish one thing, maybe that will inspire something inside me to get it all done. I just want to complete one thing before I perish. I don't need permission or a grade or credit. I just need the time and the space to finish.