I've started everything too late. There's no way I can learn how to be the writer, poet, artist, musician, linguist, scientist I want to be. I'll have to settle for being a subpar scientist who tried to be a jack of all trades and succeeded at nothing. I'll wind up doing research in some no-name university and make tiny bits of progress in an area that doesn't really matter. The academic networking enterprise I wish to create is doomed to failure and nothing I do in life will ever matter.
...
I do not believe this. Any of it. I will not. Even if it is all true, I refuse to accept hopelessness, and I will do whatever it takes to reach my dreams.
Dreams. Those are much grander than I've lately been thinking. I don't know if I can keep going if there's only one thing that matters - especially if my passion for that one thing is mired in a grief mutually exclusive with daily happiness. I have many dreams, and I need to be able to pursue them without feeling guilty about forsaking the primary one. Balance my pursuits with one another. Become everything that I can, experience everything that life has to offer -- hell, simply to live!
I want to start living again! I want to feel the things I used to feel, embrace the Universe, be one with the world I'm in! I'm tired of being something that isn't me. I know who I am. I refuse to be shackled by circumstance, by my inhibitions, by my reservations, and by my insecurities.
I put myself down so that I don't stand out. I have to stop. It hurts me; all of the artificial modesty and the compensatory superiority complexes. I used to have such a great handle on my place in the world, but I'm losing it. If I don't regain it, I may be lost in a way only capable of being expressed by euphemisms. I've been there, and I feel like I'm looking back down at the same place from a precarious perch above.
No comments:
Post a Comment