The Exposition

[October 31, 2007]

Where has it all gone? Where? It seemed so overwhelming before. You know, like when it dominates you so much that you suspect nothing that unique about yourself. I’d like to call it intelligence, but there’s more than that to it. It’s a full complement of raw brain power, unflappable attention, and boundless creativity. It’s being in charge of your mind. You are so on top of things intellectually that few can understand the depth of it. Only a few realize there is something there at all. Most of them can’t quite put a finger on it. (The rest just mistaken it for partial retardation.)

Whatever it was, I lost it after 10^th grade. That was the last year I had it and perhaps the climax of it all. I could comprehend it all. I would go beyond to understand something. I could come up with new ideas. I could beat boredom. I was never in need of extra sleep. I had full control of my desires. My productivity was at its peak. I was spiritually deep. I was optimistic. And then, almost instantly, that was the end. My attention span barely existed. I could only think things through if I put a brutal effort into it with the planets all aligned in a specific order. I was perpetually drowsy. I became better associated with people and gained heart, but at the same time, I became more susceptible.

Always in a continuum of an emotional drama cycle, my will was broken. And to this day, I remain very much the same way. There was positive progress this year though, my second in college. Like after a long-time broken football franchise receives a makeover in the offseason, there is hope and much expectation. After a utilitarian breakdown in mid-summer followed by a gradual existential meltdown, a renaissance was in due order. Gradual improvements came. I did what I could to combat sleep problems, I willed-away my Austin-only allergies, and I burned off what had become a very obese potbelly. But it just isn’t the same as before. I still don’t have “it” back. Things just take longer to do. A spiritual regeneration has fizzled out. I don’t feel like doing anything. I still have no discipline.

To have discipline, there must be motivation; there must be something to strive for. Having good grades, a good body, and bolstering the resume is just not inspiring when you feel inherently inferior. No matter what I do, I feel like a laughingstock. I have done nothing real yet – I am not in the process of changing that. Something just isn’t right. But a new line of thought has surfaced. Maybe I am not meant to put up the fireworks myself; I had always thought I was put on this earth to change it and make something big happen. Maybe I am supposed to play a supporting role to allow someone else to do just that. I do whatever to keep my sister in the right mind to excel. I always dream of making the perfect children. I always feel much more satisfied doing things for other people than for myself. Perhaps my lifelong mission is not to have my own direct impact on the world but instead, my uncompromised guardianship of someone else. Am I a supporter? Is that what I’m meant to be? But what happened to “it”? Was it just a preparation stage? If I’m meant to support, is it my own instinct that will tell me who, or is it that person who will seek me instead?