Very often I wish I could make the things I write sound better than they do. But honestly, the things I take down are so very mundane. They are completely ordinary. There is nothing pretty or glamorous about what I have to say. And yet I feel the need to let it out. I want to let go of it, even if there is not much to release. Why is this?

If what I have to say is not important, not moving, not in any way dire then why write it? Why say it? What forces me to dwell in the fact that I am not special and try and rectify it? It's sad that sometimes I think the very fact that I am mundane and ordinary makes me worth talking about. 

There is nothing extra-ordinary about me. I'm not particularly gifted in any one field or talent. I tend to just float. So very mediocre and so very average. I get by. There's nothing here that ever overwhelms anyone with some sort of emotion. I'm easy to look over. 

Why does it matter? Why do I care that I'm not the center of attention? That's incredibly infantile of me. Not to mention narcissistic. For some reason I can't help but want to be noticed. But there is nothing worth looking at, there is nothing there to notice. This forces me to think of Ayn Rand's book "Fountainhead." I don't want people to dumb down greatness just because I fail to achieve anything spectacular. It will only spit upon all of those masterpieces in every genre: literature, music, art, history, science, religion, philosophy and so on. Because of that fear to trivialize those awe inspiring works, I cannot ask people to like me or take interest in me since I am none of those things. Since I am far from being splendid or marvelous. 

So at the end of the day I'm left with this horrendous feeling of emptiness, worthlessness, loneliness. And because I feel these things, I am ashamed and embarrassed because they are shallow thoughts and shouldn't be acknowledged. And yet I do notice them and I do give them credit.

This just continues as a horrible masochistic cycle. I relentlessly beat myself over and over until there isn't anything left. Then I manage to break through and escape. I start to gain my confidence, my courage, my self adoration. But it never lasts very long. Soon the thoughts creep into me. The ones that tell me I'm a glorified nothing and that I shouldn't be so ignorant to think that my self-centeredness and arrogance is some what justified. Doubt. That's all it takes a second of doubt and then I'm done for. 

Then the cycle continues.