On the lack of things to write about

If you, like me, are an aspiring writer, you have probably come across the single, most annoying and truest advice of all: “just write”. Those two words have become the standard answer to anyone who seeks to give a start to their writing endeavors.

But those two words are more than that. They have become the weapons that disturb my inner feelings, and make me challenge my lack of creativity and unwillingness to write. Those two words are what, despite my continuous efforts not to, make me want to put words on paper. But what is writing without the subject, and what is the subject without the author to give it life? I, as the author of this wreckage, should be the one to sculpt the subject into something more than itself, something that provokes introspection and creates a deep hunger for knowledge which cannot be satisfied by a simple text, but rather by an autonomous thinking process that hopefully reaches deeper circles of the mind than a mere verse does or will ever do.

But as I said before, what is writing without the subject? That is one of the questions I tackle every day when confronted by my unfathomable lack of creativity which, coupled with my laziness, threaten to destroy my uncertain future as a hobbyist writer. But if I can gather but one good thing from the battlefield that is my mind, is that the question I put before you earlier is utterly irrelevant. However, if you still yearn for answers, a better approach would be to question the feasibility of writing subject-less lines.

As you may have long noticed, this prose is but an experiment, an effort to better understand subjects (and the lack of them!) and hopefully find an answer, and a way to circumvent the problem that is the lack of things to write about. However, as an experiment, it is also a failed one, since I did, even if unintentionally, adopt a subject: the lack of one.

But yet another question is left unanswered: Did I merely adopt the subject, or did I create it? The lack of something to write about and other metalinguistic features are not subjects that lack exploring, so one could argue that I, as one of many authors to delve into such themes, did not create the subject, but simply embraced it so as to justify my unwillingness to write about anything else.

Still, is it even possible to create a subject? Could one write about something which did not exist before a strike of luck or ingeniousness prompted its birth? Questions like those are what cement both my curiosity and my hopelessness before the fact that the answers are deeply subjective, thus making it impossible to find a definitive answer, prompting all who tackle this problem to seek not the definitive truth, but the best that there is. Such lack of objectivity also creates a wide range of possible answers, none of which are fully right, nor fully wrong.

And upon reaching the last paragraph of my wreck, born of the ramblings of my mind and raised by the vain attempt to organize chaos, you may realize that while I posed you dozens of questions, I gave you no answers. That is not because I prefer to leave you in the darkness that is doubt, but because I have none to give. I don’t have the truths men seek, and hopefully no one does. After all, it is more enjoyable to entertain questions than to kill them with answers.