Fear Of Failure Part Two

This story is based on some random true and fake events and is influenced by the movie “Guide To Saints and the album “Travels” by the band Defeater.


Some lines stolen/borrowed from the following songs:
“Big City Dreams” by Modern Life Is War
“Convectuouso” by Glassjaw
“I Can’t Go On This Way” and “Dear Self” by Beanie Sigel
“The Greatest Pac-Man Victory In History” by Aesop Rock


My name is William and I’m from the suburbs of Wilmington, Delaware. I’m 19, I dropped out of college, I feel like I’m working a dead end job, and I know that there is more out there than this. I just haven’t found it yet. Or maybe I have and I’m just too afraid to acknowledge it. I have a beautiful, restless mind. I like to cuss when it’s inappropriate. I’m a piece of shit. I am a leader. I make decisions from the heart and not the mind. I am a listener. I’m afraid of my fears. This is my story.


Life sucks, dickhead.


Every day is pretty much the same shit. I wake up, drive somewhere, see the same people, work the same job, text message the same people, take the same pictures, and say the same shit. I think we’ve all done a pretty good job of convincing ourselves that it’s the same everywhere, but that can’t be true. There has to be a place where the Sun doesn’t rise in the east. The grass has to be greener on the other side of the fence. Unfortunately, that place is neither here nor there.


People have never had a problem opening up to me about things. I think I’m a good listener and peoples actions have only made me more confident in that thought. And it’s not like I’m just pretending to listen. I really give a fuck about what people have to say… not everyone, but at the very least I’ll listen and digest what they are saying and attempt to help them. I like listening, I like helping, I’m attracted to the idea that someone is comfortable enough with me to talk about their emotions. That is a very attractive thought.


I’m the type of person that will share a shoe. If I trust you then I’ll do anything for you. That is very attractive to other people, but unfortunately some people take advantage of that quality in a person, so I have to be very picky with who I trust. I have more fingers than people I trust and that has made me a bitter and angry person. I can’t let people see that though. These fucking people will never break me.


It’s a quality that sucks sometimes. The talkers outnumber the listeners. You have to be careful with listeners. For as much as I like listening to people, sometimes I want to talk and the shittiest feeling in the world is when no body will listen. And when nobody is listening, you start going crazy. You start staying up later then you used to. You start thinking constantly and it starts eating at you. And you start resenting the talkers because you can’t be like them. And your thoughts become a cry for help but there’s no helping hand because no one is listening.


I just want to someone to listen for once. Just one time. Just once.


One day I woke up and decided I was going to make a list of things that I’m afraid of. I kind of got tired of that bull-shit tough guy “I’m not afraid of anything” role that the youth of today seems to be playing. I’m afraid of a lot of shit. But I’m most afraid of admitting to myself that I’m afraid of a lot of shit. Fuck opening up to people. I have problems just opening up to myself. I never wrote anything on that list because I’m afraid that they might come true. I’m trapped in a game of cat and mouse with myself. And there’s only been a few times in the past couple of months that my mind hasn’t been racing. I’m afraid that I might admit to myself what caused those times. I’m afraid to tell the people that were with me at those times that they helped me more than they know. I’m afraid of the responses.


All I want is for someone to listen, but at the same time, I’m afraid to tell someone what I’m afraid of. How fucking stupid does that sound? But it’s a sincere statement.


I stopped asking questions because I’m afraid of the answers. But at the same time, I’m still looking for the answers.


The day I didn’t make the list turned into another sleepless night. Instead of struggling I decided to go for a walk. I made my way to an area just outside the city. I saw a couple of bums with shopping cards and normally I would have been interested but tonight I was doing the talking. I was going to be selfish for just one night. Just one night. Just once.


I got into the heart of the city and it must have been around 5 in the morning at this point. I found myself one block past Delaware Avenue. I stopped right in front of a church. Fragments of a conversation I had with someone about religion started to flash in my head, but they were unorganized and out of place. I got down on both knees and started to pray, but I wasn’t praying to any God or Spirit. I was just doing it. It only takes a minute to pray and a second to die. And I felt nothing. No electricity rushed through my veins. No gold chariots raced around the city block. The wind didn’t even blow. All I had was blood flow and a heartbeat. Skin and bones. My heart was still beating. That in itself was enough of a sign for me to get my shit together and keep walking.


The commuters started to pour in. Men and women dressed in their business attire walked past me and I felt so much resentment towards them. I saw dead people. Not literally dead people. Just people walking around and acting like they were alive, but they weren’t. They were lifeless on the inside. No heart, no passion, no soul. They were just going through the motions and it was fucking disgusting. Just faces. No identity, no free thought. Silence and apathy.


The men and women asking me for some change was who I felt connected to. I didn’t have time to converse today, though. The Sun broke the darkness.


I found inspiration in a man that has nothing, never had anything, and will never have anything. He stands on a corner in the middle of the city and sings songs to God everyday. That is true love, something I don’t know anything about. After seeing him I immediately felt positive. I had energy like I’ve never had before. The city came to life and I walked home.


I started writing down my biggest fears. Right afterwards I started writing down the names of people that I would allow myself to open up to. Just a couple names of people that I would tell that type of shit to. It takes a strong person to show weakness. But it takes an equally strong person to accept another persons weakness as strength. It wasn’t a very long list. For the record, I burned both pieces of paper.


Not one person on that list is a fucking listener.


It’s easier for me to tell people what I’m not afraid of. I’m not afraid of death, I’m just afraid of what’s going to be written on my epitaph. I’m not afraid of living. I’m not afraid of talking in front of large groups. I’m not afraid of what people think about me. I’m not afraid of love. I’m not afraid of the dark. I’m not afraid of failure.
I do not fear failure. I do not fear success. I don’t want to change the world, but if you give me a chance I swear you’ll never meet anyone else like me ever again. I just need one chance. There is nothing about me that is average.


When I got home from my walk I decided to read the letter that I wrote to myself. It meant nothing to me. I think you definitely meet the people you do for a reason. I can’t think of many other people that would do some of the shit that we did. I can’t believe we weren’t afraid. I sat back down on the couch and tried to wrap my head around what I was thinking and these words popped into my head:


“Who is the meat and who is the butcher?


I am the fucking butcher and you are not there.”



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