All This Time? Always, He Knew. He Always Knew.

Deep, deep inside, he knew.

Truly, sincerely, he knew, that if he didn’t push himself, and put himself out there in the line of fire, he wouldn’t survive, and his dependency on the so-called performance enhancing substances, far from relieving him of the burden he had envisioned himself to be under, had turned him over and become the cause of the burden itself.

Like, so many of his peers he met everyday, he had potential. Wasted, harnessed inside for all these years. But, for what purpose? Fear would kill him, all that he could be. And yet, he found himself, battling an invisible opponent, which sought to undermine him, keep him where it Safe from uncertainty, from the unknown pursuit of endeavors he so desired, with all his heart, projecting their images inside his mind, yet not working on it, citing excuses…excuses, when the fact was, deep, deep, inside, he knew. He was afraid.

He had stopped dreaming, the dreams he had dreamt in college, to front a great music band, rocking out his creativity, the face of his generation, in favour of a laid back approach towards it all, in the company of peers who had sought to experiment with substances, rather than some other productive outlet for their energies, sucking out all pursuits of passion in favour of mediocrity towards everything, without any practice or dedication, labouring towards an endeavour, rather than enjoying the journey. Deep, deep, inside he knew, reflecting to himself, as the time passed him by, days, months and eventually years, he was afraid.

He had returned home after graduation, naive into the ways of how the world worked, or even from a career point of view, he had been clueless, waiting for something to happen, the product of an entitled generation, calm and serene in sucking the blood off his guardians, like a parasite, instead of making things happen out there by reading and networking. Deep, deep, inside, the fire was burning, but he knew. He was afraid, of something. He didn’t know what, but he was. Something clamoured at him, urging him to stop, after a point of time, after picking up a new skill, plateauing and loosing motivation, eventually giving it up altogether, like an abject looser, an addict who was too dependent on substances, instead of making it on his own.

One bright sunny day, he had woken up, and realized, he had never spoken out. Never spoken out, when he had felt things were not going correct, like the time when he had wanted to study something else, only to cave in to other recommendations, he hadn’t spoken out. Like all the times when, he had been physically bullied at school, he had caved in, and never spoken out, keenly avoiding social interaction whenever possible, a fact that carried ramifications to this day. Like the time, when he had felt the urge to be more productive, after realizing he had been getting high too often in college, to leave everything pending for the last minute, he had caved in, and hadn’t spoken out, hadn’t taken a stand. Deep, deep, inside, he knew. All this while.

He had been afraid. He still was. What was stopping him?

Him. It was him. Long live him, he had died.

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