A riff raff of 'nough. The sight of futility as we rise.
I need to start writing a master's thesis. A major piece of writing and a stepping stone to the Ph.D dissertation. Anxiety is the only emotion I can perceive. It has never been an anxiety from being unable to produce some kind of result or even generating a result which will satisfy myself. It is anxiety for fulfilling another's expectations. When money is involved, the feeling of encroaching failure in the eyes of the one who expects only one end result, success in its fullest and most complete form, weighs as a mammoth on a psyche.
Only one realization has helped me continue working as the anxiety heightens: "I am stupid and a failure, but I can get a Ph.D."
My abilities are worse than most everyone else, yet I can encounter a thousand shameful failures for every one partial success and still achieve enough to receive a degree. While those around me will rate me lower and lower in a sinking ship's rank of command, drowning does not imply a raised white flag.
At the end, I am just selfish. I mean look at the statement I made. The pronoun "I" shows up twice. The entire sentence is self-centered. Lacking any real thought or desire to understand. It is just a stupid mantra uttered by a stupid practitioner.
And so the failure takes unto its usual path with stumbling strides. Maybe one day ( )
