Saturday, 6 June 2015

Fleeting.


I have a fleeting feeling of hope. It lingers for a little longer than expected this time. It allows me to feel invincible, but terrified for what comes after. Does anyone know what will come after? What should I do when it does?

This feeling of hope scares me, as it quickly becomes something, maybe the only thing, that I hold onto for a hint of drive for the days to come. It propels me forward into the great unknown, with a sort of reckless abandon without the element of bravery. Filled with all the intentions in the world, spinning in circles on the spot.

I read through poems and watch videos which put forward an enlightening and inspiring message of encouragement. “Just do it”, they say. “You will reap your life’s greatest fruit in your lonely endeavours, and you will come out smiling, never looking back”. They paint a glorious, albeit terrifying, journey and outcome. I sit thinking & evaluating my potential for success & greatness.

They say you’re your own worst critic. Even so, bad reviews must be harsh in comparison to my own self-critique. Crippling.

Then comes another wave of confidence; the bravado to take on the whole world & eat it up before lunch time arrives. I can do whatever the hell I want to do if I set my mind to it. Watch me.

The feeling of hope again lingers for a few days. I’m constructive and I make discernible steps forward. Awaiting something that will throw me off the path & distract me from the end goal. Something that will break my stride & throw a spanner in the works. Something that will… There I go again.

All I know is that, at the end of it all, if I have not achieved at least some degree of the things I set out to do at the beginning of all this, I will have died inside & will live there onwards with the façade of a fulfilled man. I will have died inside to extent of not even struggling to hide the inner turmoil, because there is no more. Dead men cannot cry.

So it eats me up, slowly and gradually, every day. I run the race of which no one else is aware of in quite the same way, and I beat myself up in a dark alleyway for hours after a defeat. Our paths diverge and I stare in the direction of yours for hours after you’re long out of eye-shot. I may cross paths again with you someday, and I hope I do, and I hope that when I do, you will remember me.

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