adventurescga-blogs Jul 20, 2011 8:00 PM

Trapped by Comparison

"I used to analyze myself down to the last thread, used to compare myself with others, recalled all the smallest glances, smiles and words...

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"I used to analyze myself down to the last thread, used to compare myself with others, recalled all the smallest glances, smiles and words of those to whom I’d tried to be frank, interpreted everything in a bad light, laughed viciously at my attempts ‘to be like the rest’ – and suddenly, in the midst of my laughing, I’d give way to sadness, fall into ludicrous despondency and once again start the whole process all over again – in short, I went round and round like a squirrel on a wheel."

-Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Crime and Punishment



Begin...

Lift the pen to the page

Scribble inaudible words upon an affixed page

Then it hits me, something stifling. These words are not me. Or at least, they fail to look and feel organic, you know, like writing should...at least that's what I'm told. Frustrated and despondent I quit. Yes, I quit. Time and time again, I quit, or really, stop writing. Not permanently, just for duration of time, until I cling to some unforeseen courage, the kind that is left in the rubble and must be dug out. The very same that is weak and frail, because it's been used and possibly abused.

It makes an appearance. It is something I have wrestled with not only in writing but in life. Comparison. I am quite familiar with this harassment. I am sure you understand my battle. 

Why must it take such hold over me? 

Because it is an excuse. It is easy.

Ah, there is it is. Easy. It is easy to compare myself to the ramblings, and personas of others because I can never be like them. No matter how hard I try, I cannot be them. But it is fun to try, well, at least that is what Iam told. Why? If it was easy to confront fear, there would be no need for this post. The only part of this that is easy is the route of fear. Give into it and you never have to battle. You can standby comfortably. No cares. No worries. No courage.

Wallowing in cowardice. Despondency in the air. Reality sets in. An epiphany dawns.

I cannot be like them. I was not meant to be them.

I am who I am. Despite the paradoxical nature of the phrase, I am Nick, and no one else

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