07/06/21: Inadequacy and Mom

Who do I feel the need to do this? Today I’ve felt very insecure about my place on the IQ curve. I love reading about things that are above my head because I feel like I am learning something, and then I take a step back and think about the authors of these books. People who are smart and accomplished and put together and and and maybe I just drank too much fluoride in the water. My brain is something I try to be proud of, but there is an entire ocean of talent above me and thanks to the internet it is easily available at my fingertips and so I am constantly reminded that I’m not shit. This can be inspiring or debilitating; wow! look how talented, I’d better draw inspiration from this artist and try to incorporate some of the things they’re doing in to my own art (or) holy fuck look how talented, there is no way I will ever achieve this level of prowess, why would anyone want to look at my art or read my writing or listen to my music when X person exists and is already doing it so much better than me. I subconsciously default to nihilism on this subject and then I have to consciously do my best to avoid this and be optimistic. There’s always a war raging in this head, and I imagine most people feel some sort of internal conflict similar to this. It is freeing to know that I’m not the only one. Because the world is subjective and viewed through our eyes only, it becomes very easy to feel alone. I’ve always said the one problem I have with this existence is that I will only be me. I imagine if I could be someone else for even a day, it would (apart from rocking my world and making me question my place in the universe, something I already do enough) give me both a better sense of perspective and an empathetic stim-shot.

Today on the ferry, I walked by this group of three girls in the passenger cabin. I heard one of them say something about “the cute FedEx boy” as I strode on. Right before rounding a corner and without turning around, I did a snap and a finger gun behind my head as if to say “I hear you, thanks” and they laughed a lot. I went to the bathroom and on my way back, one of them said “are you the same FedEx boy as before?” I sat down, crossed one leg over the other, and said “before-today or before-another day.” I guess they had seen me on the ferry before, which I believe because I am on that damned ferry twice a day five days a week. We chatted for a second and I walked outside to the mezzanine deck to try to see my mom again.

A few days ago I was on the outside deck of the ferry and I saw my mom. She was struggling along in the reflection of the sun on the waves. These twinkling lines formed a silhouette that, though upright and walking, was not having an easy time. She ran along with me for about thirty seconds, and then she fell over and was lost to the waves. The next day I was meditating and I started to spiral. I was thinking about her and all the things I could have done to save her. I thought about how I never said a word to her for ten years, and how if I had just said something maybe she’d still be around. I often convince myself that I killed her with my own hands, as inaction is still action. At the end of this spiral, I felt an ephemeral hand reach out and touch my shoulder. I think it was her telling me to relax. I hope wherever she is now is a better place than where she was. I just try to remember that she did her best.

She wasn’t there. I don’t think these are things that you can just seek out, they must come to you. I logically explained to myself that this was because it was a different time of day and the sun wasn’t reflecting right. I told myself that if I could just catch the five pm ferry again, I could see her. That I’d make it a daily occurrence. Unfortunately again, I don’t think that’s how it works.

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