What is Original?

So this is an attempt to write just for the sake of writing. Nothing important to say, just saying stuff, meaningless stuff.

I want ideas; I know they are there, but forcing them is futile. Everything I craft feels fake, a copy of another idea, a re-hash of tropes, an amalgamation of existing plot lines, formulaic ideas that are predicable and trite. Even that sentence feels like my mind stole it from somewhere. It’s hard to write about what I see, feel and think about the world around me without feeling that it’s all been done.

I want originality, but it exists as a byproduct of other people’s creations. Even I am not original; I’m fragments of other people with ideas that come from other creators that have infected my dreams, thoughts and wants.

So can I ever be original. I’m not sure. I may never know. That fact does not sate the desire.

For crying out loud! I wish “auto correct” would stop replacing real words with some other word. I typed that word because I meant that word: I meant “sate” not “date”. I’ll never have another date for the few years that remain of my life, and I sure as hell don’t want the reminders. Fate is such a prick sometimes. Sigh. I digress, as I oft to do.

Cringe.

Why do I revert to such phrasing? Is my brain trying to impress myself, sound more educated, highbrow when it is not? Maybe it is just to torment me. That sounds more like me.