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.
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",
the 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.
got to kick it in the ass.