The letter about nothing.

I don't know, it's just the way I am.

Marshall Mathers.

I never saw myself describing myself as so, but I don't know, that's just the way I am.

Lately, the right words are hard to find, inexplicably... emotions are hard to feel, irritably... thoughts are hard to harness, thus increasingly... energy is hard to amass and sadly there's no explanation why...I just am.

Feels like a permanent preoccupation, focused thinking nothing, discomforted feeling nothing, busy but doing nothing.

Describing this is like forecasting a rainy sunny day, it is sunny but not really sunny because it is raining too but it's not really raining because there is a sun in the rain or maybe its raining in the sun, whatever, it is raining and the sun is shining at the same time and you don't need a satellite, just a mirror for me and a phone screen for you, it's all written in the eyes.

They say eyes are the window to the soul, well I guess, so are words, you are gazing at the sunny rainstorm inside me right now.

Sometimes i just want to... but then again I don't know.

Sometimes I want to write but these words seem to lack the glue to stick to each other meaningfully and i hate to fail at concisely saying what I want to say but I just can't seem to be able to concisely say what I want to say and partly it may be because I do not know what to say or maybe I have nothing at all to say and am only trying to say something because I feel am expected or supposed to say something...what case it is, I don't know.

My silent complacency might have cost me some readers, damn. I never said it before but am thankful for every set of eyes that my article gets and i appreciate everyone requesting me to say something, for you and for me I've been scribbling and doodling at mental scrapbooks at the bottom of the rubble trying to find a gem for us, a light for the mind and a way through the heart so pardon my delay its it's mainly due to self-consuming mind where every thought gets cancelled by another thought and then oftenly I find myself caught up in a loop entangled with webs wondering...

What is the most important thought to share, the most needful thing to say, because if what I say is not for anyone's benefit am a failed artist with a page full of wasted ink...

Are my current thoughts even worthy of an audience?

Suppose they are worth one, are these thoughts relevant to that particular audiences needs?

Should I even be trying to reach out to a strangers needs considering the lack of clarity on my own needs, how can I even have any sort of impact on someone else's needs?

Maybe my passions are at question, maybe my self esteem is lower than my confidence, maybe I need a drug for motivation...

Jesus, am I overthinking?...damn, I thought i was over thinking about overthinking the last time I thought overthinking over.

Then again, what happens when I don't continue writing?

Lately, there is this inability to decide: what to think, feel or do.

Then I wonder further, am i supposed to think a thought before I think it?

Do we choose feelings before feeling them?

There's a lot to think about and lately, solace and tranquility has not been enough, prayer has not been enough, or maybe my earnesty is insincere or maybe it's a lack of patience, I just can't seem to be able to rid myself of this preoccupying background hindering me from reaching a higher level of thought, or possibly, maybe thought is not necessarily the solution, being conscious is.

The problem is am having a problem with writing because am having a problem with being, am not being how I should be, a silent imbalance has me titter-tottering on a beam balance with a broken pivot and no counterweight, i have to balance my damn self back into consciousness and just switch off the autopilot am on. Until then, i guess I don't know, its just the way I will always be.

Am exhausted from talking about this, talking about myself, I don't want to be over indulgent with my sorrows and flaws, being hollowed in the soul nor be boisterous of my joys but then again as all other writers too, my state is a state of many others and possibly on their behalf i might be speaking.

Lots of human do have a consciousness problem that they may not be truly aware of, it takes quite a depth of self awareness to know and address this complex yet simple situational state.

Simply put, I don't feel woke even when I wake, like living but not being alive and I just haven't yet been able to find that spark to light me up back into a flame, and ash can not cook, there's just no enough oxygen for the flickering ember.

Finally I came to understand what Marshall Mathers meant when he stated "I don't know, its just the way I am" because truly it must have been immensely exhausting for him to keep explaining himself to the public everytime as this called for frequent self-scrutiny on his part in order for him to answer unwarranted questions and criticisms from the public, he grew tired of defending and explaining why he thought how he thought, why he felt how he felt and why he did what he did and in a burst of anger and fatigue he could only unapologetically and sincerely just admit summarisingly "I don't know, its just the way I am."

I look back at every article and reread the paragraphs I've done before and the messages they carried, the reception they received, the honest feedback, the constant compliments, the unsatisfaction of feeling this particular article needed to get a bigger audience than it did, the fulfillment of truly and freely speaking my mind and really putting my heart in the art, the passion of the readers, However successful or unsuccessful that pursuit was, I sadly don't have the energy to match it, and truthfully am not going to be able to top "who a friend is." and I am okay with that.

That particular moment was like a time capsule that captured my then thoughts, my then beliefs and my then perceptions, my then energy and vibrations, my then persona and self and that's then, I cannot replicate that moment, am not my then self and am not in the same headspace or mindframe, I might be better but I doubt it, I might be worse now but am not sure, what I know is am not the same.

I get it, this is probably the most boring article you'll ever set your eyes on, or maybe am being too hard on myself or maybe honesty is bittersweet, I don't know, so I hereby dedicate this to my core, readers who dont just read the content in the stories but also the characters of the authors behind those stories. I feel only those would be in a position to understand or maybe relate but also this letter is dedicated to any open person willing to receive its message because I understand that you will understand whatever is being communicated even if i feel like am saying nothing

I thank you for sharing your space with me, a space that has allowed me to think and to put out what I think.

I hope to channel my being to new themes and challenges in the future, I just had to pen this to free myself and also to tell you that I know I should be doing something and in due time, I will.

Far as the writing is concerned, It's not a loss of skill, it's a change in state, shift in frame as i try to get picture perfect.

Dear reader,

I miss you,

I hope this finds you well, conscious and leaves you better.

Am well, maybe not as conscious, see you in the comment section, gmail or on the next post, until then, I don't know, maybe it's just the way I'll always be.

Victor Mafusa

just no enough oxygen for the flickering