The Encampment Diaries – Year 2


Year 2

We’ve gone past a milestone, we’ve lost another year, and what have we learnt? A mess, dear boy, a mess indeed is on our hands.

More pain and more irritations and constant failures and nothing close to a glimpse on the horizon to grab hold of, a spiral downwards like some sort of Nine Inch Nails album.

The more I watch films released recently, the more I realise we’re in a bad state, the more I wish I could be involved with making something with other people, create, build, inspire and be inspired, as it stands everything feels off, questionably off, like there’s a world going on adjacent, and that’s not being seen by the likes of me. What is it? Where is it? Is it?


I’m 30 in a few months, and charting what I’ve done is insane, whilst also no where near satisfactory when it comes to normal human lives. I shouldn’t look to others as a balanced assessment of my status, but to not examine the status quo against yourself would be to live in some fantasy world in your head, and that’s a dangerous precedent, losing track of reality means losing track of humanity. A writer who doesn’t clutch on to humanity cannot offer insight, only distraction pieces.


I am hoping to kick-start all my shit in the coming weeks, a mind-over-matter situation given the pain and strife that occurs and expounds every waking moment, some inescapable, some built on regrets of living life incorrectly as a youth (again, based on metrics of others). I have so much I want to do, NEED to do. Stories to tell, characters to bring to life, worlds to explore, but sitting at home writing is a lonely experience. Sitting at home, building a movie, is even lonelier. I miss others, even as an introvert there’s a limit. Creativity and inspiration stems from others and ripples beyond too, in a small bubble nothing conducive can happen. I wish to be with others, to create with others, to inspire and be inspired. This, sadly, does not seem like something a city like London can offer, especially as the world has gotten desolate thanks to confirmation by a small-minded mass of humans.

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