Really not much to say, I've had stuff on my mind. Some of that came out in tonight's entry, some of it didn't.
Oh, play Cave Story.
Word Count: 991
I'm writing this (though I am more than away it's no story) not so much for purposes of entertainment, so much as the purpose of expressing myself and allowing you to better know me.
I've always found that writers use their art to express who they are, and upon some self-reflection I found I needed something a little more...intensive, shall we say?
You see, for as long as I can recall people have found me an interesting individual, whether it was my writing, my viewpoints, my MOCs or Models--people have always found me someone who they enjoyed speaking with. Why?
I really couldn't tell you.
You see, the truth is...I'm not. I'm not an interesting individual, in fact this entire entry is dedicated to that very fact. It amazes me daily to know that I've inspired people and that people find me fascinating--because quite frankly I'm nothing more than anybody else. More particularly I'm more annoying than most.
I hide it, I've always been able to hide it remarkably well (and that has obviously served me in my life) however the fact remains, and seems to have eternally remained--I am but a boy with delusions of grandeur.
Truly it is infuriating.
You see, I write because I enjoy it. I truly do. There are all sorts of things that I have written, or drawn into concepts that nobody (and I do mean nobody) will never ever see. Why? Because I love writing and always have.
But then I get that little worm of a thought into my brain that little "I should post this" parasite that niggles into my thoughts...and shortly thereafter my will is reduced into...well, nothing. I almost always end up posting it, and then I watch, I wait. I act like a hawk slowly circling, ever circling its prey.
I wait and I wait and I wait for that first comment.
And then it comes! And my thoughts?
"Well, that was okay"
And then I return to my waiting, my watching. I await what I view as the inevitable second comment. Often I wait for quite some time...or I give up waiting as I realize that the comment isn't coming.
"But wait!" you cry,
"Isn't this entry supposed to be about you, and your delusions of Grandeur?"
Ah, patience gentle reader. It is.
This is not by any means a slandering of those who do not leave comments, I do not even know you, how could I possibly slander you?
No, this is more to say that I expect it. Why do I expect it? Because clearly I am superior, clearly I am quite an incredible person with amazing talent and surely everyone will realize it when I post this handwoven masterpiece of supreme amazingness!
Yes. I am that bloody arrogant.
This is what my mind whispers to me, day in and day out.
Now I do my best to counteract this pervasive influence, but one has only ask my friends...honestly -ask- them, and they will tell you.
I get defensive with my writing, I get catty and snarky and angry and bitter when people make comments on my writing--why? Is it because I believe in my craft and think that these comments are obviously out to insult?
Lord no. It's because deep in my mind all I can see is "How could they not like it? I mean, I did my best HOW AM I NOT THE BEST?" Arrogance at its finest.
When at last my inner egomaniac is subjected I am left with a feeling of melancholy and sadness, because I clearly cannot be the best. Clearly I am the worst, I am nothing and I am terrible.
While that was done out of sarcasm, that is truly the thoughts that play through my mind.
Really, I'd love for this not to be the truth. I'd love to just be able to say to people "Yes, I am that amazing." I'd love to be able to actually believe what people say about me and my work. But I've fought long and hard against allowing my ego to consume me, and I have to continue.
Because I am the most arrogant person you will ever meet. Though I am not proud of it, I look down on people who I do not even know--because they're 'wrong' and they clearly 'don't understand' and a litany of other ridiculously stupid excuses.
I have always believed, even from the youngest of ages that I was destined for something better, that somehow I above all others was superior, was the better of everyone else--how this happened, what with two older sisters who were all too quick to put me in my place, I will never understand--but regardless it did.
In fact, for as long as I can recall I've been having experiences that have simply cemented that twisted thought, the thought that I am in fact inherently superior to the rest of the planet. Some were paranormal in nature and some not--the common thread amongst them is very simple, in looking back I cannot honestly detach the true event from my embellishment. Because no matter what I must be the best.
I am a fool with delusions of grandeur. I think I am far better than I am.
This is not to say that I do not accept any of my talents. I am not here to say I am a terrible person and I should be reviled and suffer the slings and arrows of the world.
I'm saying don't always believe what you see. I'm an expert at maintaining a facade, I have been for a frighteningly long time.
And please, please, please feel free to call me on my arrogance. Do not allow me to insult you or your works in my tone or my actions.
That's really all I have to say. I just needed to get out the truth.