Misinterpretations

In a span of, I do not know, a few days, I suppose, I have levelled up somehow, maybe. It is always hard to tell. It could be something or nothing, or maybe I am just imagining things, or maybe I give myself too much credit and somehow I still end up alleviating my temperament over nothing, so the ends probably overall diminish my accomplishment. There are small signs, big signs, and there are those that just end up halfway baked down the road, but I have these trigger warnings telling me that it has not really hit close to home just yet.

Let me percolate these little victories momentarily, and the rest will come on its own, without having to worry about whether or not something is achieved or not. My nature tends to be disjointed trying to piece together between what could be, what could potentially be, and what is. A week's worth of reveries will not satisfy my happy anxieties, but a lifetime of maudlin ones are primed and ready to engage. Everything is so fragile. I miss the days where easy was easy, but easy does not necessarily mean good, so I have gotten over the need to want to bathe in the comfort zone of my own making. The illusion of one certainly does not add value to the interpretations of the vague and the shoulds and the coulds or the perhapses and the maybes. Sometimes it just has to be left to develop independently outside of the individual jurisdiction.

Doubt comes into the equation quite often. It is both a disingenuous enabler and a transgressive disabler, like a condenscending doublethink whispering at the back of your head, making slight nods and gestures to make you feel better about yourself. Doubt is both a boon and a curse, but more often a curse, because the notion is often associated negatively as a quality benchmark. You would not want to bring doubt on any occassion, but it does help cross out the red flags and it can blanch it into its default hue. It most definitely is a detriment, like playing with fire when you are covered in smear. So I have to tiptoe over a den of sleeping lions just to cross over the finish line, where success is never a guarantee anyway. There is no indication just yet.

But on this most auspicious of nights, I have tasted a bit of flattery. To count myself a constellation properly named amongst a sea of stars. And finally, when all is said and done, I want to look back fondly to this moment and finally say, "It feels so good because I felt a lot of bad to get here."