This experiment is over
I started writing these pieces as a way to keep my mind busy in these times of affliction. I tried to make a difference by writing them in English (not my mother language) and using a different platform to post them. Sometimes changing the working tools helps. This time the creation impulse didn't last much.
Whenever I finish writing a story I use to listen to music, read things written by others, watch a movie, and just for a while have the deceptive sensation that I am a part of that world, the world of creators, a world I love. For those brief moments I see those creators as peers. But they are not my peers. They are something that I'm not. People gather to enjoy their creations, people pay attention to them, people enjoy what they do. This is not my case. I'm a full-fleshed nobody. Maybe I deserve oblivion: maybe I'm the living example of the Dunning-Kruger effect.
The affliction keeps being appalling. I'm struggling against a sorrow harder than ever. I just want to die.
This writing experiment is over. Thanks to those few that read it. So long.