The Show

I have already failed.  It's because I am scared.  Scared of what anyone who reads this will think.  Scared of exposing myself and what goes on within my mind to people outside of it.  Moving on, I will improve my posting daily.  The goals that I have in mind will eventually happen.  

But that’s something I often struggle with.  I have these really awesome moments of inspiration and confidence not only in myself but in what can be done, what I have the ability to do, the ideas that I have, and the motivation I know I possess.  And then abruptly an hour or two later, everything is back to normal and I’ve forgotten nearly all of the revelations and mental epiphanies that washed over me.  

I would be lying if I said it doesn’t happen when substances run through my body.  Of course it’s more intense then, too.  It is difficult to describe, the feeling/experience, obviously more relatable if you, the reader, have experienced something similar.  With substances it’s as if a lens is removed in front of my eyes or the lens already there is polished to an extreme degree, revealing my surroundings and reality for what they really are:  reality.  I think.  Whatever I see is sharp, detailed, nuanced, and horribly constructed.  What becomes most evident, especially in the midst of several people and especially in public places, is how everyone tries to cover themselves up or put on this little show.  For who?  Their friends?  Me?  

The show is for all of us.  The performer does not want the rest of us to know that they’re performing, trying to hide the fact that they’re uncomfortable with the way the are, look, or feel.  It’s funny to watch.  Often I just stare and get lost in all the information coming at me all at once, trying to sort out what’s important or wanting to simply let my mind wander from the next individual or odd thing my attention latches onto.  But then after awhile, I feel bad and want to run away; leave the public sphere and hole up in my room with a book or Casey Neistat video.  Those will make me feel better, I tell myself.  

But I’m not so sure anymore.  Perhaps I never was truly sure.  Either way, it seems like there’s something missing in either situation.  Some sort of lie I refuse to tell myself in public situations or something actually meaningful to accomplish when I escape.  The missing link, however, could be the outdoors.  Typically in those wanting-to-escape situations, I’m much more happy on the journey back to my room.  It must be the outdoors.  I want it to be the outdoors.  But when I’m in class and especially right now, just plain old in the stage of school and completely engrossed in the assignments I need to accomplish before the next class period or due date, everything gets really mixed up and hard to pick up where I left off.

Next time I’ll write a story with the 500 word limit.  

No more excuses. 

500 words a day. 

 I can do this.