I was going to go see the film “Lost in Translation” tonight.
But I decided not to last minute.
Because I’m almost certain I would enjoy it and be inspired by it…
And then I would spiral into self-hate.
See, I have been feeling down on myself, lately.
Like I’m not realizing my potential.
It’s the same feelings I’ve had for a decade. Caused by the same fears and laziness.
My excuses have become boring to my own ears.
I am tired of hearing myself say, “What I need to do is…”
So lately, whenever I experience art that moves me…
It feels like a kick in the shins.
It is a reminder of what I haven’t done.
And, at this pace, will never do.
In a few years, smiling children will probably make me feel this way.
But for now, its things I could have written.
I am haunted by the ghosts of aborted screenplays and books. Never having the courage and conviction to bring one to term.