In life, my two biggest fears are death and failing. When it pertains to death, I don’t only fear my own mortality but that of the people around me. I wonder how I will go on when those around me, whom I love the most, aren’t able to be in my life. But this isn’t about death. This is about my greatest fear, which is failure. The fear of failing is what drives me and destroys me.
At a young age, I knew I was smart. Not just any old smart, but exceptionally smart. I was teased a lot, but my retort was always “But, I’m smarter than you,” and that’s how I felt at the time. Yes, it was horrible for me to say these things, but I was young. I didn’t know any better. Since being smart was my gift, my ultimate goal was to be the smartest person on the planet. This was a realistic goal that I had. In my mind there was no way that I could not eventually be the smartest person that walked the earth. Anybody who I felt was a threat to me being the smartest, was an instant rival. And this is where I developed my greatest fear.
When I was younger, I held myself to the highest standards. I remember when I got my first B on my report card in the 3rd grade, I cried in my room. I wanted all A’s and nothing less. Though I was still successful, it wasn’t enough to be just successful – I had to be the most successful. At the end of my 5th grade year, my teacher, Mr. Brooks, gave my classmate and I plaques for having the highest grade point averages in our class. My classmate, Courtney Ross, had a higher GPA than I did and I reacted horribly to the news. I remember looking at my plaque, putting it on my desk and leaving class. I didn’t receive any permission or anything. I just left. That’s how serious I took it. If you want to know how petty I was about being the smartest, the perfect example is one day – I think it was the day after we received our plaques, but I’m not certain – Courtney asked to go to the “bathroom” and I corrected her and told her it’s called a “restroom” not a bathroom. I was weird kid. But this laid the groundwork for my fear.
A decade later, and I’m at the Ohio State University, I’ve finished my first quarter and it’s only a matter of time before I will have graduated. Success should be imminent, but I wonder if that’s enough.
I’m doing the writing thing and I know I love it. Some things you just know. I feel like I was meant to do this more than anything else in this world. But I read. And I read other writers. Really good writers. And I wonder can I reach that level? And then I wonder if I don’t reach that level what will happen? It’s a tricky question. I don’t just want to be a regular writer. I want to be great. I have to be great. I don’t know if I can settle for less. Fundamentally, I’m the same kid I was 10 years ago and the way I reacted to not reaching my standards back then, makes me wonder how I will react now. I’ll read something by Chuck Klosterman, or Malcolm Gladwell, or Michael Lewis and just wonder What do I have to do to be just as good, if not better than these guys? What if I don’t have what it takes? It’s something I won’t know until the day comes and I don’t know if I’m prepared for the answer.
And it scares the living sh*t out of me.
This post was inspired by the last minute J. Cole's song, Premeditated Murder.
"The fear of failing is what drives me and destroys me."
ReplyDeleteThat's a great line. An honest line. You want to be a good writer? Keep up the grammar, spelling and regular posting. You want to be a great writer? Keep up the vulnerable honesty in your posts. (I can't say that for sure since I haven't yet attained "great writer" status myself, but every writer I admire has a personal, honest vulnerability in their writing.)
And, by the way, I'm also striving to be the best in the world. Game on, buddy! ;D