In my eighteen years of life, I have never felt the unrelenting desire to make something of myself, whether it was because I was so brilliantly average at almost every task I ever undertook or maybe it was because I never sought prestige for my achievements or maybe just the lack of attention I was given from a self-orientated family or maybe i’m just a pessimist. Either way the indefinite demand for people who lack ambition is declining and my self-conflicting scatter-graph thought processes are pushing me without warning into something i’m not even sure I want or even understand.
After meeting student upon student of which have clearly shown their unique initiative, writing poetry and sports blogs and short novellas it demands me, my analytic inside voice to chastise my own desperate attempts to display my “talent”. This dark undertone, I presume, emulates from my lack of creative-confidence in my own work but maybe this is true for everyone who tackles word-manipulation to ascertain an audiences attention. Who knows.
To depict what i’m trying to say, I think blaming someone or something for my inability to aspire to anything greater than average would be so much easier so that I could excuse myself for second-guessing. So I guess it makes it that much harder when I realized that the only person I can blame is myself.