“I feel like I’m pouring all my creativity into you.”
I’ve heard nonsense before. Breakup monologues, make-up promises, words meant to soothe, advice that meant nothing, advice that meant something, empty suggestions from people who seemed to have authority, and oddly touching words from people no one ever took seriously.
In my 27 years of life — having lived in four different cities across four distinct regions — I’ve listened to countless people. I’ve heard things awkward in form yet surprisingly sharp in content. And the opposite: articulate but hollow. Especially from the intellectual circles I’m surrounded by — and, truth be told, helped set ablaze.
You get the idea: I’ve been told a lot. I’ve been exposed — directly and indirectly — to a flood of ideas, projects, and self-proclaimed “life philosophies.” Even as you’re reading this, someone is probably still saying something to me.
Please don’t misunderstand — I’ve shared a room, and now a home, with someone who proudly leans into radical expressions. I know the difference between logic and absurdity.
But “I’m pouring all my creativity into you”…?
I didn’t know I was obstructing a creative process. I’m genuinely sorry. The thought that I may have stood in the way of great work—hurts.
Of course, you know I’m being ironic.
But irony aside, maybe you really can’t grasp the world someone’s building in their mind — even if you’re right beside them.
Let me be clear: I fully defend the right to be delusional.
I believe “escaping reality” is not just a right — it’s a necessity for some.
This isn’t rebellion. We’re past that point.
This is written from a place of wanting to understand — to locate and position the meaning of it all.
But maybe there’s no way to truly understand.
If the source doesn’t understand itself, how could we?
Not everyone needs to have a grand inner universe.
Not everyone is obligated to achieve something big.
And what even is a big achievement?
But someone who burns with the desire to do “big things,” and masks that hunger behind a carefully curated lack of ambition,
is exactly the kind of person who accuses someone — that “special” someone — of draining their creativity.
This is where the writing ends.
No clever closing line came to mind.
I must have poured it into someone else.
image: Louis Stettner, “Nancy Playing with a Glass”, Nancy, the Beat Generation series, New York (1958)
