Sunday, December 5, 2010

I'm very worried that I am inadequate. Even with everything I do to become adequate, I feel it will never be enough. Not that I hold myself to higher standards, but that I will fall short of expectations. I am not destined for greatness. Even in the prime of my youth I recognize this. I am not especially talented, and there are few things I do better than most people. Even the things I love to do I feel I am outstripped by those much more talented than me, and that I will never be at the same level as those people. I wish there weren't so many high expectations for me to do well. If everyone believed I was going to fail, I think I would do much better in life, not only better than expectationa but better than I am doing at present. This bothers me greatly. I want to pack everything I need in a backpack, sling my guitar over my shoulder and set off down the road with no destination. Not a word of goodbye to anyone, simply leave. Not to say I wouldn't want to take a certain person with me, but she is much more adequate than I am, and would not need to escape a vast world of opportunities open to her. I feel that I am a detriment to my friends even, that I am holding them back from becoming more successful. I have no sense of consequence, no connection between action and reaction, yet i am paralyzed by fear. God I am so afraid it disgusts me. Worse yet is my excessive inability to do anything to help myself. I alternate between a catastrophic mania where I am unstoppable, fearless, and charismatic and a bottomless depth of self pity and frustration and sorrow. The sad thing is I miss the one person who I can ever say truly let me down. She was a narcissistic soul sucking vampire who drained the joy from everything and vainly abused her friends, yet she was so very incredibly easy to talk to. I almost looked her up yesterday. If only to see if her life has changed as much as mine. I earned freedom from the doldrums, surrounded myself with loyal friends and garnered the affections of a girl vastly beyond my league and have begun to condition my body into the best physical shape I've ever attained, yet I still wonder how she is doing. Pitiful really. The realization that nearly a year later and I'm still writing about her almost brings up bile. But I guess its hard to cut ties completely with your best friend, though the fact that I even considered her a friend is a mockery of the word. No, she does not keep friends, she keeps subjects. Anyone who does not feed her security of self-centric vanity is tossed aside, and anyone whose issues detract from her mirror gazing is cast away. Its ridiculously really. I have someone I feel I can talk to about anything, and she sleeps at this very moment perhaps ten feet above me. Not to mention Jessica, who I trust more than myself. Yet I still cannot shake the nagging memory in the back of my mind. Perhaps a little more time is all I need. Just a little more.