Sing a Song 0f Sixpence.
Yet, there's a pool of the Unknown - that 10% which I keep to myself, that 10% which matters the most, that 10% which exposes my vulnerability and would shock one into silence. (No, it does not involve You.)
On the surface, I'm seemingly blessed - a lil abode in a prime district, a brand new swanky $240k coupe, an occupation in teaching that pays well, (albeit it being a tad unglam) and chi-chi culinary indulgences.
Materialism is a facade to glaze over whatever is imperfect, a glossy shroud if you'd like.
You asked why I remained where I was and I had no answer.
Maybe it is because I need a catalyst, a pull factor rather than one of a push.
It's not about You. It's about Me.
I'm in my 30s and I see a mess on the board. People tell me that they envy my lifestyle but that is not what I seek. Or rather, that's the only thing I have to show. I do not consider myself to be rich, just sufficient to be comfortable.
If I sound blasé to the point of being sedated, that's because I am.
Sadness evokes tears, but what happens when you can no longer cry? Does that still constitute sadness? Or have you wandered into a Void?
There were many things that I held onto fastidiously because of Pride.
And as I age, Pride has proven to be costly. For it has been detrimental to my well-being.
I'm sorry I've bored you, my dear Reader, with my whinges about ____ for eight whole years.
Who is to be blamed for being afraid of Change, but myself?
It's up to me to steer my ship - its sole anchor & hindrance being my silly Pride.
Armed with a Type A personality and being dogmatic about perfectionism, these take flight when it comes to the aforementioned 10%.
I'm heartened that I've plodded along the tracks of the trodden path lately. It's a fair bit to where I'd fallen.
Pride needs to be quelled and sweeping, banished.
Mich, do it. For yourself. For once.
A pocket full of rye.
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