I am a coward. It’s easier typed than admitted, but I am one. The title of this post sums it all. It is a glittery thing, that would have been amazing if it had content behind it, but it means nothing. I am not saying that I am nothing, on the contrary, I’m inducing the application of the possibility of something, that might be me.
So now I’m not sure if this is a real post, or a Freudian slip-tack-toe from my hypothetical diary – but I feel like thinking ‘out loud’.
I am an architect that has been told by other architects for a while, that what I do is not architecture. In principle, my ego is bloat-worthy, but something happened. I graduated. I became alone. What came natural was looking for a job, and I just couldn’t. I am afraid of being an architect with other architects. I don’t know why. At the core of it, the most basic analyst would say that I have a fear of being judged or rejected.. the fear of failure or whatever – but I don’t know. I don’t know, to the extent that I settled for a job that puts my brain to sleep and taps on my corporate shoulder, the one I didn’t know existed. It has been three months, numb, it has been three months. I want out. I am shit-scared.
I am a coward. It’s easier typed than admitted. I am a coward because I don’t do what my self tells me to do. You see, I am a coward, because I am not fed by my raging desire to experiment. I preach, but I do not do. I love, but I do not touch. I know what I want, but act like I don’t. I buy time with unlimited credit lines, buy smiles with cheques that will silently bounce. I know what I want, but I am a coward.
And I just might do something about it, I just might.