a whole different smell in the air. something putrid and awful
- and it's fresh. i can't really put my finger on it; i'm
afraid to identify that smell because then that would confirm
that it's something familiar. something familiar. that's the
last thing i want, something that i know, something that i
can recognize. i'm in a place where feeling familiar would
not be the best of things.
crank through the remedial dailies, as the banter of the cage
i'm in rattles around me. faces look and thoughts point at
me in distrust, and while i merely shrug on the outside i
know that inside the deep, down and dark, it eats at what's
good and confident, that it eats away mercilessly and unforgivably.
mind calls it pseudo-motivation. it's definitely not full
fledged motivation to excel at something great or achieve
some sense of personal victory. it's the fear of being wrong
and embarrassed, it's the requited knowledge (as in payback
for knowing, if that makes sense at all) of being ashamed
and yet doing or not doing and setting yourself up. i hate
to say it, but when all those pretentious bastards sneered
and said "you are your own worst enemy", they had
it goddamn right.
so i move in my pseudo-motivation, in my fear and knowing.
i get that i'm not wrong and that i'm definitely not right,
but i'm positive that i am not comfortable. where i can find
my comfort is still a mystery. looking back and forth, i know
that i've seen and experienced glimpses of it. yes, through
all the oozing deceit and hate and uncertainty there has been
comfort, mostly uneasy with a thin layer of actual, genuine
happiness in and around it all.
mystery is how to get there. i could probably stand up in
confidence before a great tribunal and say what i need to
do. finding out what needs to be done is never, never the
hard part; it's always the matter of execution. it's the fear
again, sitting on the outskirts of confidence ready to pounce,
ready to tell me what to do, ready to hold my hand into failure.
going to kick it in the ass.