Soon

The worst thing about operating from a "fear of failure" is that you can gain some traction, a modicum of success by all the traditional metrics-a steady income, a house, 2 obnoxious kids whose pictures you show to everyone at every party-but it leaves you wondering.."What if I hadn't been such a coward?Maybe I would be doing something fresh.Something that the world needs instead of just this paint by numbers shit. "

That thing has a life. It feeds on your quiet moments. Feeds on the thoughts you try to push down as you make your way to work through an insane traffic jam with people all rushing to go to a place about 90% of them hate. Going to trade away their time for some cash, because that's what adults are supposed to do. And you're one of them.

You post memes about the weekend and can't wait to get to the bar and get some sweet chemical relief in a bottle. Drowning out the sounds of your younger self judging you for not having the balls to try switching your career with some loud music and shaking your ass just like the girls in the video you saw one time.

But "I'm okay" you say. "I mean, on average I'm living the dream. I can surf the web. I can watch Game of Thrones and laugh Stella Nyanzi's passionate displays ". You realize then that you've started to mock ambition. You can't believe people still think they can make a change. You push down further the little thing inside you that used to think you could make a difference.

You push it down deep. You would rather be a mediocre survivor than a catastrophic failure. You have too much to lose now to try to become a Programmer. At 36 , you're going to try and play music in a band on the side. The fuck outta here. You can hear tour friends mock your decisions . Their inner fears calling out to yours. Telling you to come back to the pack. Stay in line.

Sometimes at night you don't have music on, and you're getting ready for bed and you're getting your stuff ready. You hate that bitch Adam(Yeah he's a little bitch), always one upping your stories at work. You hate him because he ruins the only joy you have-complaining about your job, your boss, your life.

Then you stop. And realize. You hate your life. So you try something. You apply to that programming course. You buy that bass guitar and avoid those stupid friends who only want to party all the time. You start to visualize breaking free and starting this new aspect. Not becoming like your dad who only had old stories about what he could have done to comfort him. That and his mistress.  You can practically feel the glow from now stifling your creativity but giving it life.


You're starving the fear. You're breaking free from the herd. You're doing it. But then your car gets banged up. Your boyfriend says you're neglecting him. The fucking landlord raised the rent again. That piece of diarrhea boss of yours adds to your workload and barely gives you a raise. Life happens. So you say, "Well I can finish this course later. I can rehearse with the band next month"

Time goes by. You're late for work one morning. The kids , as if employed by Satan himself, refuse to do anything they need to to get ready for school. You wonder why people aren't allowed to drink in the mornings. You get a text from that guy at work you spend way too much time talking and you know it's a dangerous affair waiting to happen. He's trying to be smooth. He asks if you're still playing music . If he can come watch you play some time. If you started that programmer course and when you're resigning finally from working at Helm's Deep(Insert corporate office of your choosing here). You pause...you look for the appropriate smiley and send.." ;-) Tihihi. The hustle is real man. Ah ah . Soon"

Soon. Soon you'll get back to it. Yeah soon. Some time you'll just start again. You look at the guitar in the corner. You touch your fingertips and feel that the calluses are all healed up. You see the coding for dummies book under the coffee table.

You sigh. Soon.

Yeah. Totally. Soon