Giants Within Earshot

Monday mornings feel like standing at the edge of the diving board with your toes fifty feet above the placid pool. You know you have to jump. Before you have the nerve to admit the screaming giants in your head, your knees are shuddering as if they’ll shatter into shards any second. Perhaps it’s the height, or the depth of the pool or the possibility of dementia or death. Perhaps.

 
In reality, it’s the start of the working week. For the jobbers it’s back to their droopy desks and whining bosses. For the students, like me, it’s voluntarily getting into a 12-hour prison full of discussions, quizzes, violating animal rights of toads, trying to get your way from P(A|B) to the probability of doctors being sued due to malpractice and screwing your head tight until the impossibility for tertiary alcohols to go through S_N2 reactions settles comfortably in your piles of confusion. Those are merely among the giants screaming heights, depths, dementia and death in my head. Among the BIG stuff that pierce through my shuddering knees are rejection, rejection and have I mentioned rejection?

 
Yep, that’s the word honey. Rejection. The absence of acceptance and security of each second. The sensation you get when you forget how much loving there actually is in your life from family and friends. The action of hatred and judgment. The feeling of being lonesome simply because you elicit and solicit rejection. They’re all in the hub named Available: Entirely Ill Feelings. No matter how silly it is to even comprehend visiting the hub, some people (I for instance) are unthinkingly silly enough to keep visiting and visiting. Call it addiction, if plain stupidity is straight inappropriate.

 
One of my giants – the giants that scare me off from doing what I ought to and could do. The giants that scream in my head every Monday morning to entertain the fear from having my liberating 50-feet dive down to the placid waters waiting for me. Rejections. In plural form.

Sometimes I listen to them. At other times, I take my dive. And taking them have always encouraged me to take it again, every time.

 
No more giants. No rejection. No fear.