Have you ever been so scared that you couldn’t sleep at night?
Have you ever been scared; but, the thing that kept you up all night wasn’t a monster? Have you been scared; but, you couldn’t be comforted because admitting just what it was that scared you would be like an admission to failure or guilt?
I feel scared sometimes. And, when I say “sometimes”, I actually mean most of the time. I’m scared mostly of failure, even though I don’t quite have a definition for what success is. All, I know about success is that it’s something that people brag about.
Success is why people post on Instagram. Success is the bate that scammers use to allure their victims. Success. Success is the “after pic”. Success is why we tweet. Success is why we’re on Facebook . Success is why we befriend our enemies and let them follow our documented lives on social media.
What is man without success? He is nothing but another man’s cheap labor. The unsuccessful man has to find pride in what he does, and not in what he has, because he has nothing. Most likely, he, too, is nothing – a nobody – a worthless worm that gets up early, only to be consumed by those with lives more worthy.
The worthless man with nothing, and respect from no one, has to console himself in the belief that he has a purpose – a purpose to serve his invisible lord, and to die and go to an not-so guaranteed heaven. The worthless man’s faith cannot be shattered because only an education has such faith-shattering properties. The worthless man had a worthless education that wasn’t enough to help him deduce just how futile a life of slavery and misery really is when the only thing that he has to look forward to is death and that there is no reward in a so-called afterlife for a man’s suffering.
If he had known that there was no such thing as a Divine justice system, would he have turned the other cheek? Would he have watched as he was oppressed and stood with no intention to fight back and only the belief that his oppressors would perish in hell? Wouldn’t he have tried to be successful, when the punishment for failure is poverty, destitution, illness and death? Wouldn’t he have competed in this marvelous competition called life?
I’m scared of defeat, even though I know not who or what exactly it is that I am competing against. Perhaps, I’m competing against time and my inevitable doom. Who knows? Perhaps I am meant for failure and nothing more.
But, I refuse to believe that. I refuse to believe that I, will not conquer everything that stands in my way. I refuse to believe it. I refuse to believe that I was born to hardship only to die at the hands of Hardship. I refuse to believe that I’ve beaten cancer at the age of six only to have this life, for which I’ve fought so hard, beat me and get the best of me. This world will see the worst of me, before that happens.
I shall use my sleepless nights to plan my success and glory. To the rest of you: good night!