I told myself I was going to post at least once a day, but then again that isn’t really me. I always forget things, I have a selective/bad memory. I get sidetracked a lot.
I’ve just finished watching a playthrough of The Beginner’s Guide, and I strongly recommend you do so too. Better yet, play the game yourself. It’s very meaningful and there’s a conclusion that not many people can come to by themselves. In the next paragraph I’ll talk about it, so if you’re planning to watch or play it, I would recommend you do so before reading further.
For me personally, I recognize myself. In my work, my writing, some people could recognize depression or stress. This is for me absolutely not the case. It’s part of the reason I don’t want to share this with people I know personally. My work is a passion, a lifestyle, and to be able to write stories you immerse yourself in them. You become the story. At least, that’s how it is for me. It’s my story, and it’s for me, but not about me, necessarily. Or even this blog, if I write something that may seem depressed, it may be something I read, something I’ve thought about, or something I’ve experienced. It’s not my whole life.
I feel like my family would look at my work and worry about me because I write about quite a few dark concepts. But although I am my work, the story is not meant to be a representation of me. The story is a possibility of happiness, of grief, of fury and of me wondering about what these situations and emotions would feel like. What I would do, what I would think. It’s my possibility to make a character do good things, to do bad things, to do things that are realistic for them to do and wonder. It’s my possibility for a character that feels hurt to make their own path, free of oppression or responsibility and make their own rules and wonder. It’s my chance to justify mistakes and help my characters, my subjects. It is not a representation of me, but rather of a life I feel deserves happiness.
It is confusing for some others, who will not understand how I can think about these things and still be happy. My explanation isn’t exactly clear. But where others may feel differently, writing stories has its own meaning for me and that is because everyone is different, unique, and has their own reasons for living. There is no big goal that every person works towards. There is no one reason that humans exist. We all have our own sources of happiness that most others cannot understand, no matter how smart or old they are. And in trying to protect you, they might ruin your reason for living. Not by taking your passion away from you necessarily, but changing it through expectations or disapproval, until it has become so warped you don’t even enjoy it anymore.
I realize this will be confusing for a lot of readers, and I apologize. I really just ranted through this.
Back to the game, for some people some things are meant just for you. For you to express yourself without good or bad judgment, a way to out your creativity without anyone disapproving or interfering or poisoning it. Coda is one of those people, and Davey didn’t understand that and unintentionally ruined his outlet. For other people, they need to share things and feel connected to people, feel that they did something right and have someone sympathize with them. Davey is one of those people. Me, I think I am more of the sharing without judgment type. Also known as the anonymous blogging type. I don’t want my work to be influenced by disappointment, advice or praise from influential people in my life.