We've all heard about teenagers going through their "angsty phase" as they transverse through the mind-boggling sensation of being stuck between being a kid and an adult. The ridiculous moans and groans of how the whole world hates them, and how redundent their lifestyle is from eating peanut butter and jelly every lunch break causes both older and younger witnesses to face palm themselves.
I had to go through the phase of feeling left out of my friendship circle, boohoo!
As bad of a reception it's received, there is a term that defines an old genre that last long in the community of writing.
angst
äNG(k)st/
noun
a feeling of deep anxiety or dread, typically an unfocused one about the human condition or the state of the world in general.
"adolescent angst"
| synonyms: | anxiety, fear, apprehension, worry, foreboding, trepidation, malaise, disquiet, disquietude, unease, uneasiness
"business leaders expressed their angst over war and recession"
|
Thank you, Google...?
It's a concept that many deliciously indulge in! Through the streams and lakes that came to life thanks to a small number of readers' limitless tears, there too lies a poison that is willing to kill its owners if dosed enough. A life-defining genre that poses as both a beneficial quality to discovering hidden key emotions and a life threatening illness that will tear your mind in half, it's a risk that not many writers are willing to fully immerse.
Within this post, I will be subjecting myself into the mindless chatters that I've had with my fellow fan fiction writers (both inexperienced and experienced). For experiences, I've spent two whole years in a consistent path that leaves behind emotional wreckage for the public to see. My personal opinion will be noted as I explain how "angst" has applied to my slowly maturing life.
It's time I tell you a story, folks
I will not lie; the first time I've written angst, it was done in such a matter that most anyone could feel their stomach turn inside-out at a mere glance. (I didn't even mean it in a positive fashion either.)
In the year of 2011, I have returned into the field of writing to express my excitement and hype over the recently updated Final Fantasy Type-0 game for the PSP in Japan. As a student entering into my sophomore year of high school, this was the perfect time to pick up my mechanical pencil, a composition notebook, and start jotting some ideas.
It sounds like a grand scheme to make a comeback, but don't be fooled; I was only a foolish, naive, and inexperienced writer. Outlines and mere dialogues in scripted format began the start of my serious and full-time commitment to becoming a better writer I am today.
Although more is to be said, that can wait for another post. For now, it's time to focus on the start of a life that I solely wish I didn't evolve into.
Why did this have to happen?!
Angst was never a definition that I've bothered to look into; I've never even heard of the terminology before in my entire life. The first time I've heard of it, it was when I took thirty minutes of my time scribbling and posting up a scripted fiction: Ace and Seven witnessing the death of Deuce by Celestia's summoned creature from a teaser scene in the game's trailers.
I've gotten confused, and then proceeded to look it up. By the time I understood it, I finally comprehended my readers' expression of agony and the constant usage of teary emojis and emoticons. I understood that they were sadden by the unfolding scene; sadden by the fact that someone did a noble deed in order to save another life; sadden by the fact someone they heeded attention to died. (Keep in mind that the only realize the readers were able to feel the sorrow was because we original knew who the characters were. Another post in regard to how popular one's fiction can become will soon be blogged about.)
Something began to awaken inside of me that fated day: I liked the feeling of making my readers sad. It sounds oddly sadistic, but the sheer joy of writing an emotional tale that even I could feel my very own heart shattering is something I wish to experience again. So I did it again, weaving a plotline that only devoted followers of the franchise within the forum. With the joy of both parties talking and speculating about the game's war-torn plot, it was fairly safe.
At that moment in time, however, I took a break from writing once 2012 rolled around the corner. I decided to kick back and spend my time forgetting about the realm of words and imagery that texts could provide. Hilarious enough, once the year of 2013 kicked in, I reentered the writing universe. That was the beginning of a dark era that nearly cost me my own life.
It's a rough start, alright
Majisuka Gakuen was the first J-Drama I've watched (and one of the few lately). I wrote a couple pieces, and soon I entered into the 48Group fandom. It was a fresh and rather new sensation that could only be understood the first time. That was the perfect time to initiate and thrust myself into the fandom once again with papers and pen at hand.
It's apparent that my angst wasn't up to par with the highly skilled authors that I pay homage to, yet I was still noticeable in the bustling crowd. Through the many fictions from hundreds and possibly even thousands of writers, a couple shot glances at my work. Due to the amount of time spent reading novels, scripted-like writing style never came back to life as I debuted with a decent strength in writing stories.
Watch the underdog rise up in the ranks!
Many of my stories' genres were focused around angst. "Fluff" (romance) genre was a vocabulary that I had difficulty swallowing at the same time. No matter how hard I try to read other's works in this range of field, I just couldn't seem to grasp a greater understanding of it. Questions that constantly popped into my mind were similar to these: "Why am I able to write angsty pieces easier?"; "People keep calling my attempted fluff 'awkward'... Why is it so hard?"
Little did I know that they were red flags sticking up, proving that my mental health was beginning to plummet at a steady, slow rate. Any sane and normal individual would be able to point out the most basic key elements that makes romantic stories a bestseller. Yet I didn't stop at all and continuously brought damages to my brain, thinking it was nothing but a minor nuisance of how I wasn't able to sense positive emotions. Or rather, the large quantity of negativity that clouded my mind as I delivered fiction after fiction full of suffering. The ratio of how I've felt between sorrow and happiness would roughly be approximated at 3:1.
How I got that number... Let me think for a moment...
My own life was on the verge of self-destructing into nothing but a bloody mess. Grades were flying everywhere, fights was almost a common occurance, and my own health was degenerating rapidly. Symptoms that could send just about anyone straight to a psychiatric ward would warrant my past self a trip to the premise. Self-harm urges began to grow, proceeding to make it a reality as I struggled to cope with the unexplainable emotions I myself have created. It soon came to a point where suicidal tendecies was beginning to arise. Reenacting them came many times, only to be stopped at the thought of my family potentially tearing themselves apart at the sight of my dead body.
It was like an addicting drug; the more I wrote, the more I feel a sense of relief to the pain that I've obliviously created. Ways I needed to vent resulted in more fictions sloppily thrown together through the unfortunate turmoil of my emotions. Even my readers that I've never spoken to before nor known warned about the tolls that would burden me.
Of course, I lied about my well-beings. It wasn't as if telling them was going to make me feel any better.
Luckily, I've decided to take a step back from writing anything anymore. I wanted to return back to the realm of role playing, studying, and beefing up my literate skills. I wanted to return back to the hobbies that I've enjoyed, and searching for a way to improve my life. I've said my good-byes, slapped a "HIATUS" on all of my projects, and walked away from the mess.
It took me one whole year to recover from an affect that's been plaguing my mind like a parasite. I could only remain grateful to how much effort I had to put into bettering my life. Smiles that I once thought faded away childish was colored back to my face as I moved on forward to achieve my life's purposes and goals. Positivity and sunshine lit up my dark world, reawakening me to another perspective on how beautiful life is despite the harsh reality.
I finally found the light!
When I (surprisingly) made my comeback, I wasn't exactly surprised to see the number of devoted readers that once followed me disappear or even ignore my recent work. Perhaps it was due to the shift of fandoms I'm willing to write in as my old projects came to a complete halt. I was, however, intent on continuing what I was truly able to deliver: angst.
It's ironic. A huge private fuss that I've made over this venomous genre, yet I'm foolish enough to return. Wouldn't I be faced with the same demise as I once had? Wouldn't I be facing the devil that came whispering sweet words into my ears?
I would like to say otherwise due to the coping mechanisms that I've built on in order to balance my interal world of black and white. Emotions that muddled together as I desperately write to vent disappeared from my presence; it only left me with the keyboards, an iPhone, and an iPad to weave another tale that only I can bring to life. I became calm and knew very well how to keep the negativity at bay. Every single time I finish a writing exericse that consist of such morbid topics, I was able to retract from the electronic device and flash a smile at my youngest sibling as she chattered about EXID.
Angst played an extremely big role to my life not as a writer, but as an influential piece that made me who I am today. It has taught me various tools and packages that should and should not be fooled around with. Should I be grateful that it made me stronger? Maybe. Should I be grateful to come out of it alive? Most certainly.
Those that continue to dub me, as quoted, "God of Angst", this was no easy feat. I shouldn't exactly be proud of even having it hover over my head, serving as a simple reminder of the hardships and obstacles that I overcame as a sane writer. Yet at the same time, it might be the only thing that many will remember from me.
Then again, maybe it's not too bad
For those trending on this path, I can only pray that you have a strong will and a mature outlook on the genre as a whole. Taking lengthy breaks to redefine your life's purpose and spend time with optmistic friends and/or family can provide remedy. If you don't, you might succumb to a fate much worse than mine. After all, you're handling your very own Pandora's Box.
