My desires are pulling me in a hundred directions and my body is paying the price.
I want to be an expert. In what, I can’t say. But I desperately am craving money, power, and recognition. I grew up being told I would change the world, and now I feel that prophecy hang around my neck like a chain that gets tighter every year I don’t accomplish the impossible. I was supposed to be living a life that made people gasp in awe and run hot with envy.
There is a constant thread of “not good enough not good enough” that runs in the back of my head.
Should I go to med school? But I hate hospitals and biochemistry.
Should I be a lawyer? But I lose focus reading legal papers after half a page.
Should I run for office? I’m no good at shmoozing and don’t enjoy campaigning.
Should I be CEO? Sure, but of what?
I’m supposed to be amazing but I’m only average. I feel the weight of mediocrity, especially when I read about kings and nobles at every Korean history museum, and feel jealousy rather than mild fascination.
I want to be the best, but I don’t know in what.
I want to be the best and I also want everything all at once.
I want to market my skills for a profit, but do I have any? Is it even possible to monetize what I can do? Should I go back and specialize in… something?
I am waiting for enlightenment. Often I’m afraid I’ll wait until the end of time and die never meeting my potential. Whatever “potential” means.
I feel guilty for not meeting a goal whose parameters I don’t even know.
I want to be an entrepreneur and a clothing designer and a TV star. I want to be a cafe owner and Olympian and travelling doctor. I want to be a mermaid and an explorer and a storyteller. I want to be respected and I want financial freedom.
Mostly I want to be wealthy; the kind of wealthy that demands respect, because hyper capitalism only respects money. Who wouldn’t buy power and esteem with money, if one had it?
Being good is not enough. Living well is not enough. I’m supposed to have a single dream that I follow with near manic fervor. But I’m nearing 30 and still don’t know what that is.
I don’t know how far I have to go to be better. I don’t know what it means to be the best, but I want it, desperately.