Do you realize that you are unique?
Not all that bullshit about the probability of this human and that human and whichever charming neanderthals got together all the way back in time to make you, who are perfect (read: hot) or whatever piece or fairy tail trash your freshman TA or other random comics authors tried to tell you in a pathetic attempt to sound smarter than they were.
I mean that in all the billions of people on this planet, in all the million billion lives that have come into being and then ended and been forgotten–and rightly so because who can keep track of all that–you are the only one of you with this exact combination of geographic location and place in time. Not to mention every other thing that’s going on with you. I won’t go into it.
I know how it goes. Sometimes you sit at your desk or in your car or in a boring meeting and you’re thinking about the thing. And I’m not talking about becoming a #Girlboss or finding out how to monetize inspirational Instagram quotes or that thing with your genitals, although it might involve genitals. I’m talking about the thing.
You think you’re bad at it, and you’re embarrassed about that so you probably are fucking bad at it. It’s a true fact: when you starve a light it dies. That’s, like, the second law of thermodynamics or something.
This is important and I need you to read it: It doesn’t matter how bad you are at a thing you like.
I mean, it’s relevant. It will probably have a fairly high impact on whether or not somebody pays you for it and how much they pay you, although not as big of an impact on the latter as most people believe. That second one is called PR and self confidence and anyone can learn at least some of it.
I’ve been distracted, I’m not talking about PR right now. I’m talking about you. You have an obligation to make the thing.
Don’t do the thing. Anybody can do the thing. They’re all already doing it. Original thoughts don’t exist. Everybody knows that. The only original aspect of your entire fucking life is you and you have to document that. Badly, maybe. But who cares.
Look inward. It’s the only way out. Stop trying to make yourself happy with anything you didn’t pull directly from your own bleeding heart.
I’m not telling you to quit your day job. I don’t care about your employment status. By all means, waste every daylight or nightlight or twilight hour sucking dicks both real and imagined in good ways and bad ways. You do you. Suck those dicks. But make that thing.
Make one or make a thousand. Make a multidimensional thing. Is it compatible with all platforms? Whatever, it doesn’t mater. Make whichever thing you need to make.
There’s not much time left, make the thing! There’s ages and ages available once you start to make the thing but not a second not a blink or an inch or a single sentence more can be wasted on not making the thing. What are you still doing here? MAKE THE THING.