I am petrified of something.
It is more than just the dark. Which I am scared of, by the way. At 23. I know.
It is something that reminds me of stagnant water, and dirt that can’t, and won’t be cleaned. Something that will make all the time and effort in the world just worthless.
I am afraid of failure.
It’s the most cliche thing, I know. I know.
And because of that, I let weeks slip between my fingers like slippery beads, without writing anything, or making any progress. Because what if I write it all, and face the truth of not being good enough, or great enough? Or not being good, at all, full stop?
The thing is, I don’t want to be just ‘good’. It sounds arrogant, really, but I want to be ‘great’. I want people to forget where they are. I want worlds to crumble and rebuild themselves. I want to move minds, with mine.
What if all this time, my ultimate goal and dream has all been for nothing. My reality distorted, my aspirations smashed to the asphalt like fragile glass, a thousand glittering tears on the ground.
I know a lot of people are, though. But they just get on with it, and see what happens.
I guess I will be stagnant, if I don’t want to see what happens. Nothing will happen, if I don’t make it happen.
I suppose people need to fail, in order to get better at things. My mum always used to tell me, when I was small and impressionable, that people need to make mistakes.
‘Mistakes make you better, you learn from your mistakes.’
She is a chemistry teacher. She is excellent at using her brain. But I don’t quite know if she has ever really failed at something.
Sometimes, your sanity is put at risk.
But I am confident that I know how to get on with life, even if I do fail.
I don’t want to, though. I want to succeed. I want to be an author. A real one, with real books, and real reviews, not just in my mind.
Are you afraid of failure? Does it make you procrastinate, too?