A Post About Accountability and How I Seem to Have None

I’m struggling to hold myself accountable.

For writing in this blog. For submitting pieces to be published. For writing something to new everyday. For job hunting.

Should I go on?

Accountability is different when the only one holding you accountable is yourself.

I’m not very good at doing that.

My favorite thing about school was being able to have someone there to hold me to deadlines. I created awesome things in school. And it was when I was creating these things — essays, powerpoint presentations, sketch comedy shows, even the odd lighting design — I felt powerful.

This connects to my strange reversion back into my middle school self since being in the real world. I don’t like how I act.

I still see my life in segments. There was childhood, then middle school, then high school, then college, now this seemingly never-ending phase of figuring out what my adulthood will be. (Or is that all adulthood is?)

But mostly it feels a lot like middle school when I had no friends and didn’t do the things I really wanted to do out of a fear of . . . what? Failure? Rejection? Being laughed at?

My life, of course, is very different from how it was then. For one, I have friends. Really good ones, in fact. Ones that deep down I know will support me in whatever endeavor I choose to take on. They’re the ones that first made me feel powerful.

It was in high school that I first felt like I had real friends. I was even invited to hang out with them on the weekends, something that was foreign to me — something I didn’t realize was normal until that time.

In college I got to see my friends even more often. Lacking our own families at school, we became each other’s brothers and sisters, ate meals together, went grocery shopping together, did homework together.

I think of all the work I got done then. I took 18 credit hours almost every single semester while participating in choir, theater, and more of my own projects, while not getting much sleep, but maintaining my grades and cultivating the relationships that were so important to me.

And what am I doing now, exactly? I work in a job that, while not the worst, is not going to go anywhere and doesn’t pay me nearly enough. I don’t see my friends often, since I work on Friday and Saturday nights, the only days they seem to be free. I am away from my friends in Minnesota, who I don’t think I will ever stop missing, who I can’t seem to stop taking into consideration whenever I think about my future and where I will live.

Mostly, I think about all these cool things my friends are creating. Even as I write this, I’m listening to an album that a friend of a friend created. By himself. He made this beautiful music and it’s bringing me to tears. I want to make something that will have an effect on someone like this is having an effect on me.

There are so many things I want to make but the thought of asking for help or even sharing these ideas, let alone a finished product, with anyone, even those I’m closest to gives me such anxiety.

So then I don’t make anything. Or I make something, write something, and shove it away in a diary, in a box, and maybe you’ll all see it when I die. But even the thought of that mortifies me (even though I’ll be dead and it won’t even matter to me because I’ll hopefully be doing cool ghosty things).

I’m not in a good place today.

Without these people, these wonderful people surrounding me, will I ever be able to find a way to create something on my own?

Who am I without my creative buddies?

I’m longing for some collaboration!

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