Sin

My greatest sin is envy. You were expecting gluttony, right? From most appearances, it might be sloth. But there are some things, important things, that I do do. I see sloth as not doing what has to be done. I do what I need to, I just don't do it promptly. I've too little self-esteem for pride, I repress all the lust I can, I don't think badly of others often enough to get angry, and I'm any but greedy for material possessions.

So that leaves envy. And I have it bad. Mainly I'm envious of power. Not exactly physical power, or political, or the "traditional" uses of the word. I want to be able to create/perform works that have real power. I see so many who can and do, and since I feel inadequate in that regard, I'm envious instead of appreciative. It takes away from other people's accomplishments so because I try to find flaws to make myself feel better. Or I don't at all, and I slip and slide down a watery plastic slope of depression. Oh the grass stains on my fragile frame, believe you me.

I suppose the desire for power is rooted in my lack of purpose. For those who might not have picked up on my oh so subtle hints, the main reason I'm still living is delusion. The problem is, I see the delusion and know I'm doing it, so it doesn't work all that well. I crave a meaning, or at the very least a tangible, concrete value. I shouldn't, I have meaning to at least a few people, but I want to be able to affect more. It's like a futile obsession, because I'll never believe it when I do, if I actually did it would fade so fast it would be equitable to worthless, and it's all dust on the wind after a few years anyway.

I don't know, I listen to a song, see a movie, watch an actor, read a book, and I'm moved. I want to do that to other people. It's at once a depressant, an impetus, and an inspiration. And when I face my failure (whether it's just perception or actually existant), I just become more envious of those who succeed.

Really, I've been falling back on my novel a whole lot. I keep thinking "this will be the culmination, this will be the ideas and affect I want to achieve. This will be exactly what I want to create so I can rest easy for the duration of my life, living my piddly little anticlimatic math teacher goal but not caring I'm not something more because I have created something good." And there's where it gets even worse. I'll write my novel and get feedback (I'll probably have you all do surveys). Now, the positive I won't believe. Especially if it's lukewarm, unenthused, "polite" positive. Don't give me that. I want truthful results, but I obviously want them to be good too. So I'll try to put a great deal of effort into this. You know Perse, in all its 40+ pages, only had about 20000 words? I want to at least double that. This thing is going to be... different. I'm looking forward to it more than I've looked forward to much of anything in recent memory. And yet, I know it will be a huge letdown. But... we'll see. Be honest. I'm a paranoid, timid little ball of nerves.

Oh dear.