Oct 17 2007
my weakness
For the Composition Challenge, which I would be sad about if it were no more, I am going to write something that I totally don’t want to write. But I figure that my not wanting to write it means that it should be written. It’s not pleasant or uplifiting or funny, and… I don’t know. I’m sorry, I guess. And with that fine introduction out of the way, here goes.
You know the classic question about superpowers? The one where you can choose between invisibility and flying, and you only get to choose one, so which one do you pick? I always pick invisibility because I say I think it would be fun to see what I could get away with if nobody could see me, but the truth is that I pick invisibility because I actually want to be invisible. My weakness is my intense desire to disappear. It’s a strange weakness for a person like me to have, I suppose, because I often do all these “look at me!” activities, but I don’t really want anybody to look at me at all, and I’ve gotten really good at hiding in plain sight.
I have never once really truly asked myself what I want, because I am afraid that if I ever had to look, really look at something as raw as my own desire, the reality of it would overwhelm me, and I wouldn’t know what to do. And then there’s the part of me that thinks I don’t deserve anything anyway, so why bother? I know this part of me is wrong, I hate this part of me, I tell this part of me to shut up, yet somehow it always ends up being the stronger part of me, and my weakness, the part that wants to be invisible, just sits there and takes it.
So time goes by and things change and things stay exactly the same and I get closer and closer to not being here at all. Things happen to me — jobs, relationships, whatever — and I entertain them until it’s time for whatever happens next. I don’t ask for things, I don’t push for things. I spend all my time reacting. I am boring. I am wasting my time.
I tell myself to stop it, because it’s not like life is an endless commodity, and my greatest fear is waking up one morning and realizing I’m old and wondering why the hell I never did anything, yet I don’t stop it. And I wonder how I got to be this way, because I wasn’t always like this, and I can’t remember, I haven’t been able to figure it out, I don’t know when I turned into such a goddamned coward.
So there you go. I’m fucking great. Cheers.
hey, i’m nobody. So said Emily. she was right. At the end of that, though, how many of us agreed that being nobody was far preferable than being somebody. Even in her implication that somebody was ‘uncool’, it was easy to reframe and claim that any kind of somebody was the ‘easy road’. oops i’m falling into allusion overkill.
this composition of invisibility is honest. How many people happily jaunt through their lives of causes and careers only to wake up at age 70 to discover that their truest wish (to do nothing) had never been addressed?
True, by then they might be rich and famous and having an identity crisis might be easier to handle, but still, a whole lifetime of not listening to the inner wish to stop all that damn focus?
Who said that doing is better than not doing?
Isn’t angst part of happiness?
i’m asking, cause dedication to a calling is nice, but it doesn’t change a thing about inner honesty.
And inner honesty is the best. i hear you, jam. Since this isn’t about me, i’ll just shut up now. But i want you to know that invisibility is something that buddhists applaud. non-ego is a great super power.
This post must have been very difficult to write, but it was wonderful to read. I actually squirmed when typing mine.
really brave and beautiful. all of these that i’ve read have been absolutely heartwrenching.
like meg, i squirmed while writing - i got up from my seat, i deleted it several times - and, like you, ended with feeling like i should stab myself.
but i think worth it, yes?
My weakness? I can’t be serious about anything. Certainly not long enough to write an essay about my weaknesses.
Good work.
Well, I think you’re pretty great even if I’m not supposed to be looking at you.
Writing the post was terrible, and I just felt… ashamed when I was done. I still do. And maybe I will change my mind about it later, but for now, I still pretty much feel like stabbing myself.
But see, that’s it. See the nutshell?
Act, Jamelah. Make your life.
Don’t let it just happen to you. You’re better than that.
You’re going to have to trust me on this one.
Do one small, tiny, almost invisible action right now to claim the life you want. That’s all it takes. That’s all it ever takes.
wow I sense the inner conflict here. too bad (for you, not for me) you’re not invisible on the Internet!
I identify with every word of this - but I’ve never had the guts to write it down.
This is an amazing bit of self-examination. I’m also going through a lot of the same thoughts and processes, which may seem like a lame way to say I relate to what you’re expressing, but I do even though I’m a guy and, like, 100 years older than you. You’ve got guts, and I’m already regretting sending this, but if you’re reading it, then, I did.