Sometimes you feel so great, proud, and indestructible so to say. Then about five seconds later you realize that just means that you’re arrogant and you’re the prime epitome of jackassery. Even though you tell yourself that really, you’re not the greatest in the world, in this country, in this state/province/region, probably not even in a 50 foot radius of where you sit at this moment, of whatever, you can’t help but have that thought linger in the back of your head. Who could survive without ever thinking gosh, maybe I really am good at something, even if that thought is squashed immediately, it still lingers. Sometimes, those thoughts can creep up on you, and you spin right off course.
Hope keeps you alive, it keeps you running. With no hope, there is no reason, there is no point. There has to be some kind of driving force, something that can move you. With no destination, you wander endlessly on an endless road. Yet all at the same time, the road goes no farther, and yet you still drive on, toward nowhere.
Even when you have a kind of destination, you may not know how to get there. Is this worse than not having a destination at all? That’s debatable. Perhaps, as I’ve stated some long time ago, the point of the journey is to find the destination. But not knowing how to get there, could quite possible be just as frustrating. There is no map, no plan of action, no blueprint, and so, you run on what you carry with you, or inside of you. And sometimes you feel, that that’s not enough, and every time, you fall short.