You cant see me

Few months have passed since I embarked on this journey to self-improvement. I may have achieved a considerable amount of it but I'm nowhere near the finished product. Almost synonymous to the force-field analysis in management, my absurd amount of driving forces for change is quite certainly to be met by increasing restraining forces stacked up against me.

My biggest vice is that I discreetly hate to be that particular forlorn figure standing on the sidelines watching everyone else adapt so well. While simultaneously wanting so fervently to be able to take the long hour ride home. But I have come to question myself time and time again, will being home make a change? The prospect of home sounds endlessly appealing.

Undoubtedly I'm going home to figure myself out. Figure this out. This whole rut that I've put myself through. I will need to be refreshed to shake off this envy. The green envy. But what will two weeks improve? Will it serve its course of refreshment or will it bog down my efforts?

I think I'm a dark character. Twisted by sensitivity. Yearning for attention. Which has probably been the contributing force as to why my adolescent years were plagued with depressive spells. Right up to this day, those traits might never have gone too far from me. I'm like a shadow, never stepping out into the light but there's a certainty that I'm there, following behind nonetheless.

I am the king of mediocrity. Achieving at the middle-most degree. Never excelling in anything undertaken. I've always wanted to be the best at some things I do, but I cant even acknowledge something I do good. While other peers have gone on to become someone better, I'm still that someone teetering on the borderline of failure and acceptence. I'm so exceptionally good at nothing that I take winning the sperm race really seriously as an achievement. No, that was stupid.

As a mere reader, albeit all the words, there are so many things that you just cant comprehend about me.

I wish you could. Really really.

Jinn