#renewedvigor

[sumancasm-blog]

This new year let's do things differently... 2️⃣0️⃣2️⃣0️⃣ 🥳🥳🥳🎉 • #newyear2020 #newhopes #NewOpportunities #renewedvigor #renewednutrition #onestepatatime👣 #blankslate #365days365opportunities #LetsDoIt #letshustle #letsmakeithappen • #Sumancasm #like #share #comment (at Pune, Maharashtra) https://www.instagram.com/p/B6wzuMHHpVk/?igshid=1ba0suifm6igp

[shadeslingingslasher]

Affirmation

I've never felt like I've had a place. I've never felt like I'm the best at my craft, or even that I had a craft to be the best at. On paper I imagine I sound…well rather accomplished. I went to All-Region Choir five times, and All-State Choir twice. I’ve garnered several awards for having the best grades during high school, and at one point I had even single-handedly established an entire debate team for my high school with several skilled debaters. In the same breath, I can’t help but to think about my failure as well. I missed out on the sixth year of All-Region because of an inflated ego, and a lack of preparation (also, a tone deaf Asian boy who sat next to me fourth year makes me think that they’re criteria was severely lenient). That same debate team with the incredible debaters, and the potential to win a national championship is now defunct due to a lack of leadership after I departed for college. Most importantly I feel severely out of my depth as a college student at OU. Everyone seems to have an incredible knowledge that I just unable to match. I’ve always thought of myself as lacking self-confidence but for the first time in my life I feel inferior. I rarely feel unbeatable. Currently my major is literature, and I have a half-hearted dream of becoming a publisher. I say half-hearted because I’ve never felt more inadequate than when I enter my 1:30 p.m. lit class I feel like I’ve entered into a parallel universe where extraneous language is the norm (like extraneous! WHO ELSE WOULD KNOW THAT WORD WITHOUT LOOKING IT UP?). I find myself wondering if this is the path that will produce the happiest me twenty years from now. As I awaken from my somnolent (now I’m just trying to reassure myself that I’m smart) stupor every Tuesday and Thursday as soon as the clock spells 2:45 I am inclined to say no. There are few if any times where I feel affirmed by those around me when it comes to what I should do for the rest of my life. My biggest fear is ending up in a career that I loathe as a forty year old. Additionally, I detest the idea of entering into a career in mediocrity. I want to feel extraordinary in the thing that I do, and I want to leave an immeasurable legacy afterwards. There remains one pastime in which I still feel incredibly passionate. However, I often wonder if what I write could ever resonate with someone as much as the work of others has resonated with me throughout so many years. A huge part of me refuses to allow myself to become a struggling writer. Someone who depends upon the mercy of others to recognize and affirm their genius. I feel as if I could write a story about that parallel universe with superfluous language, and have it spring to life before my eyes. I feel invincible yet invisible at the same time. When I write I feel endless. Affirmation is the one and only inexplicable thing that alludes me.