How can it not piss you off, man? You’re 28. Bjorn Borg retired when he was 26, after achieving every record in the book. Those Boston guys wrote and directed Good Will Hunting when they were your age. Were all of them prodigies? You gotta be a little pissed, man.
Greatness achieved, in any field, by any gender, at any place, pisses me off. It pisses me off so much that I wanna cry. I don’t mean it in any wrong way, no; it inspires me too, it inspires me very much, but the fact that they did it and I am sitting here sulking about my petty problems, pisses me off. The fact that the only aim of my life has been restricted to becoming the best amongst the mediocre, to being able to climb the ladder one step at a time, maybe two if it’s a good hair day, bugs me. No, I am not jealous of anyone making it big or finding new money with the mediocre talent. Not at all. You deserve it even if you are mediocre, because there will always be people who will look upto you. Look at our population, man. You can do shit and market it well, and you will be famous. But those guys, those guys at the top of the ladder (I am not sure if the metaphor of ladders even apply to them), those who have achieved greatness, I am so jealous of them.
How can you be jealous of them? Why are you comparing yourself to them? You are unique on your own. No, I am not. I am not unique when I am climbing the ladder with you all. And why? Why can’t I compare myself with them? What do they have that you don’t have? Or I don’t have? They breathe oxygen, walk, talk, eat, sleep, fuck, just like the rest of us. Then what the fuck is the difference between you and them or between them and me? Don’t give yourself any excuse, man. Don’t. There is no difference. It’s just that we have been so comfortable in our boxes, in our little bubbles, that we don’t even aim for greatness. All we look for is the source of our next paycheque and the vacation that will follow after that. Fuck. It’s so fucking annoying. The more you try not to be a part of this herd, the more you end up grazing the grass. “I’ll quit and do that thing which I wanna do after three months, and these three months I will save.” And then these three months become years. The backup we had for ourselves, becomes our life. Risk was a term coined by people who feared failure. Oh that’s risky, let me get a good backup before I jump into that sea. And the waves flow, man. They won’t stop for you. Bye bye. See you on the next shore.
I am fucking done with all of this. But the next moment I would wonder, am I? Am I fucking done with all of this? Am I good enough to go out there and sail on my own? Is this the thing that I want the most that I will ‘risk’ everything? And that’s the thing, man. That’s the thing. Sometimes, I feel like I don’t even know what the fuck I want. I aim for something, then I get it and then that’s not the thing. Then I aim for something else, something small, which I know I’ll get, and I get it. And I reward myself for the success that I knew was always gonna be mine. Because you gotta celebrate your successes right? But was that really a success? It wasn’t. I am just fooling myself. Ah, another outrage on another internet site, let me fill my void with that. Fuck greatness. I can never be great. Let me be the best mediocre there ever was. Best is too much, maybe the second best.
And forty years later, when you will see a guy doing what you could have done, you will tell your kids, hey, make that guy your role model. Not me. You will root for that guy. Your kids will root for that guy. It won’t piss you off anymore. By that time, you will have learned to live with that feeling. You will have lived your whole life like that. You will give your kids a goodnight kiss, think about killing yourself for a passing second and then go to your bed. What happened, your wife will ask. Nothing, it’s a long story, goodnight baby.