I was

I was something

Growing up an only child, my wonderful supportive parents always told me how special I was.

My father would tell me how unique I was.  How much better I was than other people. How proud he was to have a son who was “drug free”. He told me how great I was because I “thought for myself”.

I would listen to my parents telling everyone how smart I was at family gatherings. My godmother would tell them how mature I was. I felt unique. I felt like I was ahead of everyone. I was better than my classmates. They thought they knew what they were doing, but they would fail in comparison to me.

I knew I was destined for greatness. I couldn’t fail. I had been handed a great life on a plate, and of course that wouldn’t stop.

But as I got older, I began to fail. I forgot things. I made mistakes. I produced low-quality work. I botched relationships.

Now I find myself at 18, confused and lost. I find myself with “so much talent” as my sick mother and godmother say in the other room, just within my earshot.

They tell me I should think about school. I fight it. I tell them the world is changing. That the truths from their life are not the truths from mine. That the new generation is just plain different.

But I don’t entirely believe it. I don’t feel sure of myself. I feel as insecure as ever.

And on some level, I truly feel worthless. How could I spend so much time trying to learn, have done so many things in my life, have read so many books, but still can’t make money? I still can’t acheive the lifestyle I want.

And I realize. I am not more special than anyone. I’m not smarter. I’m not better. I’m just another failed case. Another dumb old guy. Another overconfident poster-child for naivety and baseless faith.

Shit.

1. Life and death in the same neighborhood
2. Coming back to Maui
3. More on Parents