Why I'm staying silent…

Yesterday was a bad day for me. Weather shifts had me blurring through erratic mood swings every few minutes, and for whatever reason, the whole chorus of voices in my head decided to go on the attack. It got so bad that by early morning, I was already pacing the house and screaming "shut up, shut up, shut up!"

And, I couldn't breathe. No clue why, but my nose just starting making extra snot so fast that I couldn't blow enough to clear my head. And since I was breaking into sudden fits of sobbing, you can be sure that wasn't helping the sinus problems either.

This was not the worst day of my life. That was back in Austin, when I laid in bed for four days without eating in an effort to die by starvation. Obviously, it didn't work. And you know why I tried something so pathetic? Because I'd woken up to discover the first 200 pages of my first real novel had vanished from my computer without a trace.

Crazy? You betcha, and I've only been pointing out the truth for a few years now to a chorus of denials from friends and family. "No, of course you're not crazy! You're FINE!"

No, I am not fine. I never was. Weeks like this…no, months like this remind me why I've chosen to give up on my goals of writing as a profession. I'm simply too unstable for the job.

In fact, that's why the voices have such an easy time picking me apart. They only tell the truth. They say things like "You write books that nobody reads," or "You haven't sold over 10 copies on any title since 2009," or "No one cares if you release another book or another 20. You'll die childless, unloved, and obscure as the day you were born."

All true, and there really is no counter argument. I don't expect my fortunes to change any time soon, because I have no new plans to push, no new lucrative market that I'm eyeing. I've lost faith in my writing ability as much as my promotional ability, and now, I'm just spinning my wheels.

There is no plan, and no goal. I'm just…taking up space, waiting around for my body to get tired of life and shut off. I'm so sick of being told to have hope too. Hope walked out on me during 2010.

I can't have kids. Even if could, I shouldn't. I can't be a parent, or a foster parent, or adopt. I can't hold a full-time job, and even normal social interactions can stress me out and cause me to suffer MS relapses or sudden mood swings.

All of this has been true for a long time, but now, I'm adding to the pile of failures because I can't write a book good enough to deserve real attention. Despite having a large vocabulary and the ability to filibuster with the best, I've never convinced anyone on any issue from the most mundane to the most vital. And setting that aside, I can't sell people on my work. I can't transfer my passions through my writing to other people. I never get through their outer layer of cynicism during the sales pitches.

I don't suppose there is a point to this post, aside from to explain why I'm remaining silent for longer periods of time. I'm falling apart, and I got nothin' left in me to keep me moving forward. There's nothing to stock faith in, nothing left to hope for. I don't have a single dream left that I care to pursue.

I'm the walking dead, unable to lay down and stop moving, and unable to keep pushing forward either.

Maybe some of this will clear up after the weather stabilizes, but my improved mood won't change my circumstances. I'll still have no clue how to promote my stories. I'll still make 4-7 sale for each new release no matter how or where I try to promote, because I'm just not good enough to deserve attention, for anything.

And this is why I'm not online these days.