I’m challenged in the way I can’t stand to say no to a challenge.
I’m challenged in the way that the thought of someone having a less than superior view of me, encounter with me, decision of me, drives me a little insane.
I’m challenged in the way that this alone is enough to stoke up a new blaze in a handful of charred cinders.
The truth is I’m a bit adrift.
The truth is I’m a bit adrift, which is fine but I recognize I have no real ability to control my direction or even know which way it is that I am going.
I have no real ability to be objective about my status on the planet in regards to fuck-up vs. not-a-fuck-up.
I suppose it depends on who you’d ask, the answer to that one.
The idea that members of my family might view me as a fuck-up (but she had so much potential – she was in gifted for so many years! She read all the time! She could have been a lawyer or a doctor, that one) surficially amuses me. Yet I feel equally, amidst the laughter and the shrugging of my shoulders, these empty caverns resonating that negativity in low rumbles like painfully trapped gas.
The bond restrengthens, a vile nonsentience intent on keeping me, and I begin the cycle of validations once more.