Knight of Mars (sailornash) wrote,
Knight of Mars

  • Mood:

Never Satisfied.

There simply are no words in the English language to fully express the amount of fury and rage now contained within my mortal form.

I think I may need to switch to German.

How long have I struggled in vain? How many tears have I cried, how much sweat has poured from my brow? Yet I still suffer disrespect, dishonor, and fall short of my every lofty goal. No matter how many hours I pour into my work, my life, my is never enough.

And it never will be, despite my most noble efforts. I feel a righteous indignation towards my status in life. No man is entitled; yet despite this, I feel as if I've earned some measure of respect. Nevertheless I can never seem to rise above the lowest class. Others I know are managers, supervisors, church elders, leaders, pillars of the community. None are older or more gifted than I. Some may even, surprisingly, have been ones that no one ever thought would amount to anything. Even they have found some measure of success.

I do not begrudge them for it. However, I will not stand for this any longer, and I feel I deserve far better than my current lot in life. I've overcome amnesia and crippling injuries. I've been a scholar, an artist, and an athlete. I've earned awards and Engineering degrees. I've worked hard to get where I am, and my efforts should be rewarded in some manner. Yet the more I demand respect from others, and the more I expect it to be given - the more disappointed and frustrated I will only become. Respect can only be earned; it can never be demanded. And the cycle viciously feeds upon itself. The greater my ambition, my desire grows...the larger the disparity between my aspirations and the cold, harsh reality I must subject myself to.

No lover deserves to be judged against the sins of another. No matter what pain one has endured, no man is owed. And each new voyage must begin anew - each new journey begins with a first step. I would do well to remember this.

To drive myself onward I once told myself "you're only as good as your last game." Perhaps I should heed my own advice now. I continuously must prove myself again in the eyes of new friends, new allies, new coworkers at new people who know nothing of me. But it does tire me so. How much longer must I toil in vain before the fruits of my labor are recognized?
Tags: frustration, life, stress, work

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