Lurking, Hiding, Forgetting

I used to think that I was accustomed to disappointment. Disappointment was something I was very familiar with and I know well enough how to deal with it. But I was wrong and I realize that no matter how prepared a person really is, he can never be fully okay after being disappointed over something. I admit that I’m not the best Prideshipping writer out there because seriously, I’m not. My style seems to be very hard to understand and I guess what I write is not that interesting anymore. I want my stories to earn a lot of reviews, I want people to appreciate my works. But sadly, many of them seem to dislike it.

I never thought that I would ever see myself as an incompetent. I never thought that one day, I would finally succumb to what my mind has been incessantly whispering since three years ago. My stubborness used to be a lovely trait for it keeps me determined enough to see things done. But it affects me negatively now because I don’t listen to the more rational side of me anymore. Except if the topic at hand is related to anything I particularly dislike and wish to avoid, no, I don’t listen anymore. I want to be a better writer. I want to be acknowledged as someone whose works are even worth reading but I’m just not. It’s depressing to think about how I’ve tried for for years and the improvements aren’t even worth noting.

My inability keeps me from commenting. When I cringe at the poor characterization made by other writers, I can’t even tell them properly as if the mere comment is so untrue already. It’s always been a problem and maybe I’m just trying to be nice. But how come people appreciate their works and not mine? What do others have that I don’t? I want to be good. Gawd, I so want to imrpove so badly but I honesty don’t know what to do anymore. Barrie said that my style has turned into the introspective side, more about how the characters think and not on what they primarily feel. I used to write fics that center on emotions, on how the characters react. Yet, despite her saying that my new style is to her liking, I had received more reviews in my old stories, the ones which focus on the emotions themselves. So, what’s going on?

Talked with my best friend forty minutes ago. I don’t know whether it’s better that I feel relieved about the fact that she yet again knew a secret, or concerned that someone was actually listening to our conversation. Something didn’t seem right and I’m baffled, but maybe I’m just paranoid. *nodnod* I thought of stopping. It appeared like a waste of time in anybody else’s eyes and I admit that I’m wondering if they were right. They could be. But I’m too much of a coward to suddenly forget I could write, and too clingy to be the slightest agreeable to the fact that I’m really letting go of all those years I trained just so I can master my writing style. It’s sad to think that the absence of competitions and the team I’ve been a part of these years have finally convinced me that maybe there’s nothing for me in college except work. Not that I’m complaining; heck, I’m not even in college yet so I really wouldn’t know how difficult it really is, right? But I’ve seen other writers give up on this because of the load, and admittedly, I find myself unable to shake off this feeling that I’m headed down the same path. It’s terrifying.

I’m afraid that piece of knowledge is also affecting me in terms of how I write my stories. In Explanation’s up for probably eight more chapters (or ten, depending on what outline I decide to follow) and even though I already have all the things that will happen in the seventeenth chapter, I can’t bring myself to write it. Yana said something about ‘bitter endings’ and the struggle that goes with it–and normally, I would have laughed at my naturally sarcastic friend but that statement is still in the back of my head, forcing its way to the front. We still have to finish the mythology, which is already on its way to having 60+ chapters and I’m the one who’s supposed to make the next chapter but it conflicts too much with my ideas for the other projects I plan to work on. See, Einstein Mythology isn’t something that I’d usually write. It’s a lame effort on my part to actually be funny even when I know I’m not, and sadly, I know I’m failing rather miserably. Perhaps all I’m waiting for right now is for her to tell me that I sucked at it, and that I should write more angst and darker stories, instead.

It’s disappointing to hear that these thoughts are re-appearing when I was adamant in keeping them silent. It’s pathetic, to be honest, and I really do wish TJ was here to distract me. But things between us have been too awkward lately, it’s getting harder and harder to talk to him. We barely understand each other anymore and to think we’re best friends. Maybe he really is busy there, where he studies, and that college isn’t exactly as easy as he thought it would be (heck, even I knew that) but so many things have happened lately among our circle of friends–Steve transferring dorms, Jerry going steady with his girlfriend, me going to college, etc.– that I’m beginning to question if he cares what happens to any of us. I shouldn’t be thinking about that; sadly, it’s the truth. It’s not the fact that he doesn’t go online as frequent as before, or that when he does go online, he’s always busy on some project or report; it’s more of him changing before our very eyes and we don’t know if we’re welcome to witness that change… if we’re even welcome to his changed world, period.

This is depressing. It reminds me too much of Steve, Jugs and TJ, too much. I wish Avril didn’t have to go earlier. At least then, I wouldn’t be pouring my frustrations here. I want to really believe in my new friends, I really do, but they’re not like the ones I’ve been accustomed to. I’m a pathetic excuse for someone who’s supposed to adapt so well with change, and every time my new set of friends and I talk, it’s like there’s still something missing. It’s so unfair to them. Can a few hours of excitement and joviality-borderline-insane be sufficient replacements to that peaceful feeling that settle in my mind when I’m with my old group? I’m hyper when I want to but does it mean I’m also happy? Moments of randomness can only last enough, and what it leaves is a void that keeps me awake at night. Insomniac is a curse, or so they said, but it’s been the very thing that keeps me on my feet when I try to deal with the few glitches and turns. I’m not even sure if it’s normal to feel this way–but I’m not anyone special, probably everyone has their fair share of college blues.

Mindtwin once commented on how ‘deep’ and angsty my fics were; and ever since that, I’ve began thinking if there was even basis to what I’ve been writing all these years. Were they even true? Did I have the right to write about depression and grief when the only shot I had to ever experience it was losing my grandfather and having a rather chaotic fight with my best friend? True, Avril and I had made up in Cavite, thus vowing never to let such a rift to widen ever again but have I ever felt the depression I made my characters feel? The hopelessness and the anger, perhaps, yes; what about the other things?

(Listening to: Everytime We Touch *slow version* – Cascada)

Time check: 8:40 P.M. By the time I’ve managed to finish this post, it’ll be nine o’ clock. That’s a bit relieving to hear, don’t you think? At least after this post, I officially have thirty minutes left until someone in the house realizes that I’ve been awake for more than thirty hours now. *grins*

Posted Chapter 16 of In Explanation on FFnet yesterday. Whew. If my luck hasn’t abandoned me yet, unlike my memory and brain (traitors), I’d be able to–will likely work on the next two chapters over the weekend since there is absolutely no way that I’ll be online all night again. Gah. It’s summer! Why can’t I stay up late when I want to, anyway? Re-read the chapter I uploaded and it, admittedly, has a lot of unanswered questions. Even more, it didn’t answer the queries that were raised in Chapter 15, something barrie18 pointed out. Lol. Making Mahado lose his keys was probably not the best idea of a comic relief I’ve ever had. I shouldn’t have done that, but right now, I’m thinking… what if, he didn’t lose his keys? What if E. Bakura had managed to grab his keys? The priest wouldn’t realize because he didn’t know the tomb robber managed to  build himself a body.

Oooh. Idea. X_X

I plan to focus on how frail Yami and Seto’s relationship actually is in Chapter 17. They may be former rivals, who had understood each other, and in YBSH, there was a connection. But they still live in a real world and they’re human, capable of making huge mistakes. Would a relationship based on attraction and mutual understanding be strong enough to survive the consequences of their mistakes?

Time check: 8:55 P.M.