Unwished

I do not wish to present myself as a whiner or a whiny person, but sometimes it seems necessary to paint the reality of my feelings in no uncertain terms. Life is an odd thing, always full of ups and downs. I am just as happy being honest to say that sometimes the downs feel unbearable as I am to say that the ups are spectacular. There are many things I fail to understand. I don't see any reason why I should waste my time with another menial, pointless job. That's my perspective. I can imagine up all sorts of wonderful supposed reasons why I am working as such, but those are bandages. I have presented my perspective, agreeable or otherwise and try as I might, I find it impossible to fundamentally change that perspective.

I spend a lot of time talking about my story because I believe in it. I believe in it as a thing - fully realized inside my own mind - that I must do. I place a lot of hope in it based solely on the fact that I know its pursuit is what God has for me right now. I know my aspirations for it are at times almost impossibly difficult to conceive as realistic. I know how much work it will take to craft it properly. I know all of these things and when I compare them to the demands of real life, none of it adds up. It is an enormous task which I could work on for years to come and never fully accomplish. This knowledge makes reality even more frustrating.

But I don't mean to say I would stop working on it. I don't mean to say I would give up. I am presumptuous to think that my story might have meaning to anyone other than myself. To me it is a big thing. To me it is important. I have no means by which I might gauge its significance to the world outside my head. I fear and tremble to think it might be nothing more than a pastime pursuit aimed at no greater purpose than making me think I am something more than I really am.

At the heart of it, that's the real difficulty. My trepidation is drowning in fear. Fear that what is significant and important to me might not be anything to anyone else. Fear that every supposition I have based my life, faith and decisions on is somehow fundamentally flawed. That's a lot of fear. And working menial jobs always seems to prove it all true.

I try to express this succinctly and meaningfully. I try to convey my thoughts in a way that can be universally understood. If instead I come across as a whiny quitter, that is certainly not what I intend..