Clichés inevitably contain a modicum of truth.

But that misses the mark.

I have an insecurity complex that would have President Bush up in arms, and I don’t know what to do with it. I somehow manage to persuade myself that I exude an aura of confidence and cool calm while simultaneously convince myself of the falsehood that is the pretense of competence I cower behind. I take a perverse pleasure in mood swings such as this, wallowing in depression, yet believing the next moment that everything is swell. In all likelihood I have a Dr Jekyll/Mr. Hyde-esque complex festering in my skull, which will manifest itself in mental disorder sooner or later. Depressing innit? Still, how do you reconcile fear of inferiority and failure and a compulsive need to excel with confidence? I nurse my self-deprecating persona and manage to delude myself of invincibilty. Not only insecurity but inferiority as well.

Ability, confidence, competence and chutzpah. Pfft. What then about that tinge of self-doubt that questions one’s very own humanity? Why else then the apprehension at approaching the subject of one’s own emotional capacity? Dread of discovering that where other people have hearts there is only a dark void, a void that effaces emotion, that inexorably draws emotion and renders it inert, finally residing in the husk of a man, a mere automaton that presents a poor rendition of emotion, experiencing none itself; or perhaps an android with a singular fervour, to learn how to feel like man does.

So, why does a souless and emotionless creature fear failure and incompetence? How does the man who runs the rat race seeing the tail of the leader say he dosen’t care; that his feelings are a fabrication? It happens. The rat tries his best to catch up, but is uneasy as he sees the fork in the road. Whichever path he takes, he forgoes the other; as Frost said: “I have taken the road less travelled, and it has made all the difference”.The rat wants both and takes neither; he ponders his life and watches in regret and dismay as the competition outstrips him on either side.

Why do I hurt myself so, why do I chase the dreams that are not mine?
Why do I fret that others climb above me, when below lies the expanse of the earth?
Why do I fear that I will fall, when I have made it thus far?
Listen to your own advice, live life to the your fullest

A double-edged sword, meta-cognition is.

Clichés inevitably contain a modicum of truth.

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