What is Wone and Who is Dave?

I’m a writer. There’s no doubt about that. I’ve spent close to a million minutes since 2016 writing. I’ve written half a million words. It has been a wild ride, and I think that being a writer has become engrained in my own personal identity. 

But there’s something that still needs to be said: I suck at words. I can still never quite express what I feel and that is a maddening feeling, Even more so because I have spent my life in words and I don’t know how to function, I don’t know how to deal, if I can’t bring my thoughts to life or communicate them in an adequate manner. It all starts to feel useless in a very much frustrating way. 

I’m not sure if I am the only writer that has experienced this, this sort of uselessness that one feels when, after so many words, one still fails to express what really matters. And then, just by the fact that we devote so much of our time, so much of our selfs, to writing, it only exasperates the wound, exasperates the frustration. 

How do you deal with failing to write what you think? How do you come to terms with never being able to truly express your emotions? With never doing the worlds in your imagination justice? It’s rather a hard place to be in, and a difficult place to recover from. 

I have this sort of trauma, this sort of wound, from the unwritten words that linger between me and my lips, that fill the space between my being and the words tattoed on the pages of a journal.

They tumble out of me clumsily, weighed down by typos and inexplicable connections. What is wone? Who is Dave?

I try to understand the world by reading and writing, yet the more I explore it, the less it makes sense, and I wonder if it was ever meant to be in the first place.

Is it even possible to reach that point? Or is this my burden to bear forever? I’m not sure if asking these questions will ever render an answer, and I don’t know if trying will ever make me succeed, but I can do my best to get as close as I can.