It feel strange – I’m growing up yet I’m finding it increasingly difficult to know what motivates me anymore. Less so is it a case that I am unmotivated, but more that I am struggling to tap into the reserves of potential I assume I have pooled beneath my rough exterior. I must move onto the next level. The ‘success’ I have so far achieved is of little standings to those of my heady aspirations – I do not wish to be denied by an all too familiar teenage angst that I’ve seemingly become coerced by, foolishly, naively - deceived by the tantalizing bait of a ‘normal’ existence. Far be it an ideal, normality is only this seductive notion due to my insistent curiosity. That and the coarse views of my peers of whom find me, not only an oddity, but also slightly crazed – spinning my existence between my fingers like a plumber would his hammer. A contoured existence is an acknowledged, regular thing - I’ve said so before - but what I’m continuing to struggle to cope with is the lack of calm; the lack of freedom; an ease in pressure. I can sometimes feel like life is a drawn out conflict, day to day skirmishes beating down upon my fragile mind, body and soul; a regular familiarity, worrying as each impact cranks up the pressure valves that tiny bit more.
I’ve found, as we all do, life is an ordeal, yet it is made all the more excruciating due to my masochistic drive to push myself further, faster and harder than those around me. I‘m driven by the individuals I surround myself with. My goals are all the more unobtainable due to my insistence on comparing myself to others, whilst I could never allow myself to settle – I couldn’t, and wouldn’t, allow myself to stay in one place, competition a constant reminder of my own failings or short comings. I’m motivated by this all – yes. But, as I push myself into an oblivious, hungry, unprecedented existence, I’ve found that success brings with it a level of crushing anguish. I find myself blind to the milestones I pass, my greed insatable, whilst I wearily continue on, stumbling and staggering, towards a goal I shall never reach.
It’s difficult turning emotions and feelings into words, but, my body still wracked with hormones, I use natural highs and lows to help me to express the turgid thoughts that are constantly running around my assault course of a brain. I’m 19 in a week and I stand defiant in the face of the adversity that is day to day living – bring on my nineteenth year and bring on the battle. Image courtesy of the fantastic Mr Rayn - thanks and sorry I forgot to ask!