today's weather: S L I G H T D E P R E S S I O N anxiety : 1
agitation : 1
One of my largest sources of frustration.
I was mulling over The Parable of the Talents again and thought about I haven't even invested half of my God-entrusted "talent" into something of eternal significance. Sure, I've done some stuff here and there, made some practical contribution to this or that ministry. But I still feel massively unfulfilled because I know there is so much more I can and should do.
This is my obsessive overconscience speaking, If you haven't noticed by now. Constant poking by the coulds and shoulds.
This word haunts me: potential. I just freaking haven't lived up to that potential.
i.e., for someone so intelligent and gifted, I haven't really done much.
Genius. Yeah, I've been called that. IQ tests say that I am. People who used to be over me say that I am. I'd like to believe it's a fitting label. Here I remain an underachiver, an manquee, the most useless sort of genius.
I'm not the stereotypical kind of genius [glasses, an inclination to invent or discover, a penchant for proving mathematical theorem - none of that]. I'm a damn tortured artistic type who can't even produce any worthwhile art. The most useless kind.
I suppose I can stop guilting myself by believing it's alright, I'm still young. ish. But what's the point of being a genius when you can't prove it by some concrete contribution to society before mid-life?
I want to do something. I want to accomplish something proportional to my potential. I want to see my dreams and ideas incarnate. And I want to start soon.
But I don't know how.
