Preface: this is my series of RAW and UNEDITED daily posts for NaNoWriMo. It’s going to be extremely imperfect, lauden with grammatical and spelling errors, but brimming with potential. I post it mostly for myself, but invite any daring souls to try and keep up with the winds that blow me to tomorrow :wind_face:.

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Day 99 (NaNoWriMo Part 19)

Thorn in Me

The rise to fame. Ascending all challenges. Shortcutting with nervers of steel. We all have our own tower climb, floor by floor of all the things that we need to progress through in order to get to the next frontier, the newest horizon, the very next step.

And for a long time, I have been stuck. I’ve been with the same people in the same scerinaos that ever-repeat in the days that draw on endlessly towards nothing. I felt trapped.

And suddently, a new light peeks into the dark void I sit in alone. The v oid is strange, I hear the songs and dance of the people around me, and they always reach out their hand to try and bring me int othe world, but every time I slap it away, pretending that I know better, that what they are doing isn’t worth my time.

I was wrong. Immensely.

I kept myself as distant as possible to protect myself from a danger that was never there?

Embarassment? Shame? None of that exists when you are among good friends and family.

And the worst part is, I never realize when I am doing it. I’m stuck inside my own head. The Thorn in Me.

Gradually, the walls fracture. They aren’t broken, but they stream in light from outside myself. The bigger picture. Shards of world-class magic.

In this light that shines on me, I open my eyes to possibilties that were always there, but never gave myself a chance to realize.

I also have this terrible habit of being overexcited about the things that drive me. Most are nonsensical, but the same friends are become indefferent, annoyed even. I guess this is where my distruct stems from, where I am open but my own interest, but they are not mirrored in the others I consider to be my friends. Worst part is, I am stuck in my own head. I probably do the very same I scoff at others for treating me. I need a way out of my own head. The Thorn in Me.

As of late, the things that interest me have all been creative driver instead of consumer driven. I caught a glimpse at what I am capable of, and especialyl what others can conjure. It’s inspiring. I want to seem the same in the people I hang out with. There is a reason I am friends with them, right?

I’m not so sure anymore.

Something I recently realized is that to achieve the road to mastery faster, you need a master. No duh, but as someone who tried to be as self-suffienct and insular, it was a hard ephinany to come across. The Thorn in Me.

When I realized this, my skill-mastery accelerated faster than I could have ever imagined. And this was just me testing the waters. There is so much more to accomplish, and I have never been so excited.

One piece of advise struck me as life changing. It was the fateful choice, and would leave me to leave a lot of people behind. “If you want to soar like an eagle, you gotta stop hanging out with a bunch of turkeys!” (Ironic enough, as ThanksGiving is tomorrow). To succeed in life, you have to always be in friend groups where you are not the smartest guy/girl there. If you are the top fish, the pond has official become too small, there is no more room for you to grow. And if you try to leave the pond without your old compnaions, they call it the crab claw ordeal. Crabs are an extremely perculair sea creature, but one behavior of them I foind to be absolutely puzzling. If you catch a bunch of crachs in a bucket, and one crab tries to escape, the other crabs latch on, trying to drag down the escaping crab with them. If the bottom bucket crabs cant leave, there is no way in Davie Jone’s locket they are letting someone else go free. The metaphor translate when you are the top fish in pond. Everyone else tries to drag you down, to keep you exactly where you are because they are afraid to be left behind.

The metaphor becoes painfully apparent when I see my stature and belief in life changing while my friends remain the same. I am seeing new frontier, I am doing new things, I am meeting new people, I am wanting to become someone new, someone better. My hope is my sharing of experiences, is that I will awaken something in my friends, that they too will start looking inward and realize there is something inside for them as well, and the kindling will start to blaze within. And for almost everyone, the kindling never lights. They just look at me blankly, like I’m speaking in some sort of foreign language.

Some of these avenues are life-changing in more ways then one. I have a lead on an monetary investment that very well be my escape from the 9-5 grind. The promised land that is said to be only given at the end of your life, age 59 and a half. Early retirement? Before 30? Preposterous. But when I speak of such granduer tales, and speak not only of possiblity, but reality, they listen. But they listen only with their eyes, they don’t listen with their hearts. Remermber me when you’re famous yeah? We’re still gonna be friends when you’re rich and wealthly, yeah?

…

Why?

The answer is obvious if these friends are toxic. Cut the toxicity from your life, no one needs this kind of energy. But what if your friends aren’t toxic, but aren’t accelerating you towards your goals either, what then?

The question haunts me, because it’s where I am today.

And somewhere in a dream, I found the answer.

I’ve been having vivid dreams lately, I’m starting to remember them moreso than usual.

I one of my latest dreams, I was in a tavern of some sort (I guess I romaticized the idea so much in my VR world that it’s now in my Dream world, too). The tavern is a small hole-in-the-wall establishment, with a bar and maybe two or three small tables scattered across the small room. Two other colorful but hooded beings converse in the corner, and I wander in alone, just like I always have been. I sit at the bar, and the barkeep welcome me. They size me up immediately, and detect something amiss. Bartenders in my mind are magicians of their own. They are the emphatic sort who can tell at a glance the type of customer they are confronting: after all, tips are their livilihood. With the momentary sizing-up, the bartender begins to frown. Then they ask in the most caring voice possible: “why are you here alone? you don’t seem like the type to be alone, not like most others that come here often.”

Is it here where I stary crying in my dream. I cry pretty often, a lot moreso in the past than now thankfully, but the medium where I dicuss a bit of my innerself to otheres is turning away to look out in the disstance. I haven’t yet mastered looking directly into someone’s face when I bare the surface of my soul, maybe something I will be honest enough with both myself and other people to do so. But in this dream, it’s different. I cry, but keep my eye closes throughout my unraveling. It’s weak, but I can feel the sense of the bartedener before me in my shut-eye darkness.

“I’m alone, but it’s because I choose to be alone. I want to be with others, but I don’t want to be with just anyone. I want to find the right people to continue pushing me to become the very best variant I can be, and that I can do just the same for them.”

The words I gushed out came out from my voice, but since it was a dream, I did not use my mouth. My soul started to speak, and through this honest convinction, I opened my eyes. The bartender before me shifted very little in their sature, but in the cornet of my mouth was the makings of a smile of approval, and a slight nod.

My convicition was accepted.

It was then I woke up early in the morning, a hour before the dawn rose to greet the day in this early autumn sky. It was still dark, but I could feel the tears of the dream transcend to reality to. Before I knew it, I scrambled to get my phone. I long ago decided against trying to write down the entire recolelctions of story, because when I woke uo in more sober states of mind, it was all nonsense.

With my dream adrenaline quickly shrinking, I wrote dow na single note, and went back off to bed to not further ruin my already unstable sleeping schedule.

When I next awoke, the dawn had finally met the day, and soon light blue rays began to intrude into my room. I woke up, feeling like I was just awake not even 15 seconds ago furiously scribbling notes down, and thought to look at just what I had written. I open my phone, and find only one note waiting for me.

“CREATE YOUR OWN OPPORTUNITIES.”

I smiled and felt my heart stifle, because I knew exactly what I meant when I wrote these words.

I remember old friends that I wanted to get to know better, who intrigued me in ways my safe but old friends did not. It was maybe akin to the newness of getting to know someone, but I lamented at how I went about this traditionally. I always waited for the opportunity to present itself to become better friends, to get to know each other at a more intimate level, and rarely, these chances ever came. I even safeltly blugeoned myself into thinking if I happen to run into a person more than twice, it was a sign I should get to know them better. How foolish.

The most valuable interactions I’ve made with people are serrediptuous. Compeltely random and unpllaned. The failture in these interactions is that I was waiting for permission to get a chance to speak with them again. But time is precious, time is short, attention is valueable, and always frought and lost. Why would someone meander back to getting to know me? How foolish. Another Thorn in Me.

Now, I was starting to believe in something a little different.

I… am a creative.

I sold problems the worlds has always had, that I’ve always had, because I believe I can make a difference in the lvies of others and the life of myself. I magician of sorts, wielder of World-Class magician.

But i was nervous, and hat made me excited. Vunerability and weakness were two elements I shied away form time and time again. Now, I was lookinf forward to them. It just meant I was one step closer to getting to the next level. I imagined the pain I would feel from losing, now just in the next battle, but it so many battles yet to come, and I shuddered. But I wanted to relish in it. Nothing makes me more proudo f being battered and bruised time and time again, but still having the audacity and raw willpower to get up and face it once more. And with that, a new feeling starting to well inside me.

The Rose in Me.

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Today’s word count: 1930 words
Total word count until today: 39,795 words

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@mariasokolowska @michellebasey @sabweld @philkastelic @nicolaworley @ParisaR @sydneydobersteinlarock @wildcat @dragon @homeroom11