I worry about the choices I have made in my life- the ones I have not made perhaps even more.
Tonight, I worry that I am not good enough at anything, that I never will be, because I am drawn only to my own selfish an unrealistic wishes. Wishes that have been constructed specifically to be unattainable, something to always strive for with no hope or risk of ever achieving. At least, that is what I fear I have done.
Tonight, I worry that what I believe I want is exactly what I can not have, and I have chosen these wants because of a deep-seated fear that I am not worthy of having my wishes fulfilled. That, in fact, it is my own belief that I am not worthy that has precluded me from ever reaching my goals. I have no strength to give, I have no power to lend, no gift to exchange with the world to have my strongest dreams come true, because in reality, my strongest dream is to never have what I want.
A storm is slowly making it's loud, lonely, illuminated way past my window. The strong winds will leave a wake of debris to clean away come morning, and the charged air will cause more damage than we have seen this season. I believe that art imitates emotion- perhaps emotion imitates nature. I can hope for now that is the truth, and that with the morning sun will come a lightening of my mood. Somehow, I doubt it.
I wonder at my own uselessness, glad to see my life through brighter days than those that have come before. I can not imagine what would become of me in darker times.
I wonder if my attraction to study is nothing more an a vain attempt to find another time, another place, another people so disconnected from the world, so angry, sad, and useless- to find the proof that I am not outside human nature, that I am redeemable. I fear throwing myself into my study only to be proven wrong. I fear for the world should I be right.
I fear never trying at all.
Friday, August 20, 2010
