It’s funny how easily we tend to get over things. Things that we spend years to acquire. Once we own them, I guess we stop caring about them. No I don’t have any heartbreak in mind but it’s rather some eerie feeling that sets in at this point of time as I sit in my square-shaped closeted room and watch the rain pouring outside through a rectangular window. Oh my! I guess I used a lot of shapes all of a sudden but you know I’m not much of a shapes person. I’d rather have things out of shape; though I feel that I’m a perfectionist but then perfection is not defined as well. So out of shapes things could be perfection as well. Maybe. Well my line of thought seems to be breaking. You can make out from my writing I guess. This idea of Existentialism has had a lot of me I guess for I don’t really understand why it intrigues me so much. You’ll get to know because my next post is definitely going to be about Albert Camus and the same idea of existential crisis. It fascinates me. The Stranger is next on my reading list and I can’t wait to devour it. I wonder when will I actually stop writing nonsense.
My post wasn’t about Existentialism or Camus either. I had come to write about Failure. Yes. Not Success. Failure in the hard-hitting sense. Broke. And this comes from a combined ideology of Existentialism and my personal failures. First, I honestly have no clue about my existence and I strongly feel that I am also suspended in a limbo between life and death like the Hollow Men of T.S. Eliot. Truly, nothing can be more estranging than this feeling. I guess my line of thought is on the wrong track. We humans tend to aim at Success in the wrong manner. So, if I don’t make it to an exam or I don’t win a competition for some reason I tend to lose hope, substance and my confidence, little realizing that if I fail at something then that does not truly render me a Looser because then at the next moment I feel that I must be good at something else. But this feeling comes a little later when one has totally denigrated oneself and stamped upon oneself and cried out in shame and what not. But, after all, yes we’re Humans. Still we end up treating ourselves as a failed guinea pig when in times of failure. Discarded. Second is my personal problem at dealing with failure. Dealing with the set-back, the after-effect that shudders one from inside and that feeling is no less nauseating, making me feel a s if my head could go crashing on to the floor. Damn. I didn’t make it this time as well. That moment when optimism seems only a word and Hope a far-fetched fairy tale that may never come true. Somehow I need to learn. Learn to learn from Failure. Learn to Never Give up.
I read it somewhere that Failure is never the END but rather the END signifies Effort Never Dies and that is something I want to incorporate into my system. So that the next time I come face to face with Failure, I am able to not stamp upon myself but rather praise myself of the times I was successful. Be it in a small way but still Successful. And who knows in the process I might even someday re-work on my definition of Failure.
Well. It feels better now.