failure. i do not admit to the fears that haunt me every day, the ever looming principles that society has set in my mind that brings extreme anxiety to my every day living and conjures up the dread that i can be less than human, for mistakes that are constantly teetering back and forth in every thought i make. reality has failed me. i'm reliant on music, and my blooming social life - which is more like performance art than anything else - to keep me company as i live life. i don't want to impress anyone, but i want to prove to myself that there is something less artificial out there, just look around. and achievements made to impress myself and choices of my own volition do very often include people, or a world. not just my head or my room or whatever tantra bullshit i will waste a day reading. and if it didn't have to be this way i'd take it. i am forced into a mental oxymoron, where i fear the path to accomplishment but without taking that leap i won't be proving anything to my own existence. failure. maybe? how can i know really, if being less than human means i can be more in tune with the finer parts of living, why can i only tap in to the minuit distractions and road blocks? it's not quite melancholic, not quite depressing either. that's how a failure feels.
