I rarely make any choices.

In fact, starting this blog is the most significant choice I’ve made in a long time. I think it stems from my crippling fear of failure. Where that stems from is probably buried somewhere deep in my subconscious but I don’t have the capacity to dig it out.

Even this decision took a long time; thinking back and forth, overanalyzing and overthinking the value of starting a blog. And in the end the conclusion I came to was something along the lines of ‘fuck it, nobody’s going to read it anyways’. 

So that’s what I’m banking on, that nobody will read anything I write. Which in many ways makes me feel useless and depressed, but for the most part, strangely, it gives me a feeling of comfort. That I can write whatever I want without fear of judgement. And I’m hoping to turn that fear into bravery, and then turn it into a disregard for whoever it is that’s judging me, provided they’re not someone who’s opinion I should value.

Now, what’s the point of even putting anything out there if I’m banking on nobody reading it? Well, mostly because I have to do something. Nothing in my life will get better if I don’t change how I go about it. So I can keep writing down my thoughts and my stories to myself like I have been doing, or I can toss them into the endless void of the internet and see if perhaps something will change. 

There’s a certain peaceful comfort in never making any choices, in just staying whereever you are. But it’s time to leave the comfort zone.

Because my fear of failure is slowly starting to get eclipsed by another fear. The fear that I will end up an old man who never made a decision that he wanted to make. That I will, at the age of 26, already be washed up, stripped of ambition and dreamless, which is a reality I can already feel starting to set in. 

So here I am, slowly making small, barely significant decisions, hoping I can find whatever it is that will make my life begin.