Messy Beginnings

Trying to start something while hopelessness abunds.

I walked along the path with a certain calm. As the wind started to move around me, I felt a sense of peace that I can’t really describe. What is this place…? It’s a national park. I’ve visited it before. But today it feels like it’s the first time. Has this place been here, so close to me, all my life…?

The thought makes me nervous. How much am I missing? How much I am giving up, just by not trying? In the last couple of months, I’ve gotten many difficult news. Nothing fatal, fortunately. But now I know: I’m neurodivergent, and focusing, and finding the drive to do things, can get exceptionally hard to me.

But it doesn’t seem that way right now. As I move across the park, all the drowsiness that usually assaults my thoughts is replaced by immediacy. By the here and now, a moment precious on valuable in itself.

Life is full of preparations, of leveling up. I constantly do things not for the things themselves, but because there’s a bigger aim on the horizon, a desired result in the future.

That’s fine, and I get that this is how the world works. But I crave for immediacy. I need to do things now and feel the things now. Yes, I know this can be interpreted as me being immature, or incapable of delaying gratification. I’m not talking about junk food. I’m not talking about having everything the instant I want it, either.

I just want to feel the moment. To be happy at the moment, to know that what I did now is valuable for what it's worth now, and not how much contributes to the future. The thing is there, and I’m happy about it. And that’s it.

The world doesn’t really work this way, sadly. I need to “grind”, to push myself forward, every single time. The success of today is a success, of course. I can be happy about it. But if I don’t do the next 12 steps, does it really amount to much?

For someone with difficulties focusing, this becomes extremely difficult. I just don’t see the point… it all seems too far away. Maybe that’s the reason I love video games and art in general.

The sense of significance, of purpose. This is happening now, and this is its own reward. I play the game to play the game. Enjoying it, completing it, it’s everything I need. And that makes me happy.

It doesn’t end there, though. Because I always end up thinking a lot about games. About entertainment, about my relationship with it, and about what it means to have fun. I think I’m a better person for enjoying (not consuming) art and trying to analyze it.

Some weeks ago, I booked a call with a person I respect a lot. I asked if it was possible to become a writer about games, a journalist, or a critic. He gave me valuable insight and pushed me towards that goal.

I’ve been doing my best to improve my neurodivergence while I await the next year. I think I’ll study games journalism.

I want to make games. I want to talk about games. I want to meet people who make games and understand them. I want to help if they allow me to. I want to have fun doing what I love most.

Such an objective may seem naïve. I know how cutthroat the industry is. I know games journalism is having a difficult moment. But… Writing is what I enjoy doing the most. I tried copywriting, putting that skill in other areas… it’s hell. I don’t enjoy it.

I want to talk about games and art and narrative… so I’ll do that. Please indulge me while I talk about it. Maybe you’ll find something interesting amidst my ramblings.

I sure hope so.

Thanks for reading.

If you like this writing, you can buy me a coffee. It’d mean the world to me.