What do you do when you realize you’re not cut out to complete your goal? Do you withdraw and take with you the pride that you had the wisdom to know your limitations, or do you continue and damage yourself for the sake of finishing what you start?
I am not cut out to work in an office.
I do not have the subtle tact to be sensitive to the pitfalls of others. I do not have the brain capacity to sit down for 8 hours a day and be completely productive. I do not have the capacity to read through lines and lines of paper and pick out the faults after about 10 minutes of doing so. I do not have the capacity to come home at the end of the day, sunlight wasted, dead on my feet… and retire myself in the aim to give my energy to a new day of the same boring shit. I do not have the capacity to receive criticism through smiling teeth, every time I do my skin crawls and I begin to think very violent thoughts. Nothing bothers me more than deception and insincerity. I’ve learned that an office, no matter how fantastic its fruits, still holds onto the same universal rules.
I feel bad saying it, because I really do love Scenarios. I love the majority of the people in it too. They changed my life these people. They put me on a path of success of focus that I would have never had, if they had not come into my life. Perhaps this is why I cling to them. Perhaps what I’m really afraid of is failing with people that I know won’t stand behind me at the end of the day.
As always, I expect love in all the wrong places. I wish that deep down I can accept the fact that I can’t love every aspect of my life. I think that’s why I like artsy shit so much, because in making my life different and unique I’m making my surroundings more lovable. An office however, is not lovable. Schoolwork, no matter how fascinating, at the end of the day, is not lovable. Paying the bills at the end of the day, cannot be achieved by love.
The Beatles were wrong; love is not all you need.
Love is just something you want. Something that everyone, your relations, your friends, the media, they all dangle in front of your face like a delicious steak. You walk and run and jump through fiery hoops in order to get a taste of it, but in the end very few people will want to actually give it to you. Very few people actually have it to give.
Love is a delicacy reserved for invisible elite.
Its not for those scarred by sharp tongues and expectations.