A
annon
Guest
It's hard to explain exactly what caused it, but following one decision that was not really a decision at all, a series of events were to take place, and for a short time I would feel that I'd compromised something. Not wanting by some cheap trick to raise an unjustified sense of anticipation though, I should make it clear now that this would later transpire to be ill-founded, and perhaps even foolish.
Leaving the house each morning I'd come to think that a part of myself was still asleep in bed. I was functioning under the belief that my soul was immune to the ill effects of a day at work because the bit of me that mattered most didn't have to endure it. As I half-walked, half-ran to catch the train though, a faint sense of doubt was known to surface.
Such was the breadth of my indifference that it was hard to imagine what drove me. Attempting to interpret my own actions, I looked without profit to others. What had happened to the sense of higher-calling which once governed me?
The same feelings still persisted, yet nothing would suggest this strange phenomenon was anything more than delusion--a necessary expedient to adulthood which, to my shame, I still hadn’t shed. All signs pointed to the unhappy conclusion that I, like the many, were sinking by slow degrees into an acceptance of mediocrity.
As friends settled down and became dispassionately concerned with current affairs, I sensed my acquaintance was coming to be an embarrassment. Had they come now to regret past openness? Were they perhaps even ashamed at having lacked the courage to take certain chances? ... I marveled at my embattled egotism's shaping of things--where else could I have acquired such deranged explanations? Little wonder that I kept so much ti myself. If I fancied myself as one of life's gamblers, then the question would be posed as to just what it was that I felt I was gambling on--quite obviously leading the same tawdry existence as the next person, only refusing to...
Leaving the house each morning I'd come to think that a part of myself was still asleep in bed. I was functioning under the belief that my soul was immune to the ill effects of a day at work because the bit of me that mattered most didn't have to endure it. As I half-walked, half-ran to catch the train though, a faint sense of doubt was known to surface.
Such was the breadth of my indifference that it was hard to imagine what drove me. Attempting to interpret my own actions, I looked without profit to others. What had happened to the sense of higher-calling which once governed me?
The same feelings still persisted, yet nothing would suggest this strange phenomenon was anything more than delusion--a necessary expedient to adulthood which, to my shame, I still hadn’t shed. All signs pointed to the unhappy conclusion that I, like the many, were sinking by slow degrees into an acceptance of mediocrity.
As friends settled down and became dispassionately concerned with current affairs, I sensed my acquaintance was coming to be an embarrassment. Had they come now to regret past openness? Were they perhaps even ashamed at having lacked the courage to take certain chances? ... I marveled at my embattled egotism's shaping of things--where else could I have acquired such deranged explanations? Little wonder that I kept so much ti myself. If I fancied myself as one of life's gamblers, then the question would be posed as to just what it was that I felt I was gambling on--quite obviously leading the same tawdry existence as the next person, only refusing to...