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The desire is too close to my heart, that the idea that it might not be in me to do, that I might never succeed, leaves me hollow. It's too dear to share. It's too wishful to bear others scrutiny. None the less, I have been working towards its, in bits and pieces, the possibility never far from my mind, for a goodly number of years. But the odd part is, though it is my dearest dream, it would also be the worst job for me. I procrastinate. I am unreliable, possibly unpredictable. My chosen profession requires a level of personal commitment I am simply incapable of. The position requires less interaction with strangers, with people, and ugh how I loathe people. So it is attr4active to me. However without forced social interaction, perhaps I will wither, or become strange on my own. But most significantly, it would require for me to put myself out there. Allow myself to be judge, evaluated, by others, by strangers.... Worse, by people I actually know. Even with only praise, even if everyone would think I was brilliant, to let someone evaluate something so personal, it horrifies me. And finally, I don't even think I am very good. I could bear everything else if I could just be good. The level of personal satisfaction would be incomprehensible. But I'm not. So..... I keep going anyways. TO not, would deny who I am. To invite regret. So onwards I forge. Post a comment in response: |
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