The beads of sweat gathered on my forehead, I felt completely out of my depth and the thing that I wanted so much had become another pipe dream. I didn’t want to cry or laugh at the tragic circumstance, the waste of (minor) talent, the brutal truth that had come from the lie I had been telling myself, because I could not move. I heard the music start playing. My hands were shaking, my teeth trembling, my tongue dry and my breathing erratic. ‘Move man!’ I told myself. And somehow I managed to. I had reached the light and a small smile moved across my face. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it was.
Everything that I had avoided for about three years of my life had seemingly become a distant memory with one move in front of a moderate crowd of people. Sure, I wasn’t the main focus on that stage, I was one of a small group, but I was there and I remembered why it had made me so happy. The strain of the occasion left me absolutely exhausted the next day as I again felt my trembling hands and a head that felt like it was made of concrete. However the more I challenged myself to confront this fear, the more I became used to it. To return to typing in the present text, I still am troubled by the feeling but I am no longer haunted. I want the feeling and I want to beat the feeling and push it out of my mind because I know I am stronger than the painful pressure it places on my body.
Fuck you, I scream at myself, you’re not going to stop what I want. You’re not going to make me fear my own shadow. You’re not going to control my life and my future! I don’t like to cast my mind to the future but it often guides me there to assess, to hope, to wonder. So another challenge becomes what my life is about and as much as it becomes a tepid feature of my existence, it also enthrals me and excites my senses. I hate it and yet I thrive on it, knowing that I have to remain on my toes and moderate myself to not fall into the traps that have plagued me for the past couple of years.
I’m in a good place. I feel so very alive. Yet there is so much work to be done still. Alas, I like to remain brief in my personal battle for I do not want to water down the reason I write about my life. So here’s a picture of something funny.