I feel like I've failed myself, failed my ideals. I could have done so much more. I allowed myself times to do something other than work. I talked to friends, humored annoying people, slept more than 5 hours.

I could have compressed myself more, struggled more, just cut off everything else and everyone else. I should have told them all to wait a little longer, that I didn't have the time, but I couldn't. What does that say about me? Maybe it's what most people usually do, what people "should" do. I can't explain why, but there's something inside me that compels me to do all of this. Maybe if you believe in a higher power the feeling will make sense. It's something that just feels...like it's there, unmoving, moving you in what you hope is the right direction.

This isn't about pride, perfection, or my occasional pleasure in pushing myself just for the grey morphinic bliss of pain. It's a standard of work that I put forward. Everyone has a standard. Mine is comparatively high to alot of people, but I expect alot from me. Here...I haven't worked to my full capacity. I should punish myself, but I can't. I bark enough to make myself deaf but I don't back up my own threats.

My work should be everything to me. It has to be. Yet, I can't. There's this force that makes me feel like I can and need to...but I allow myself to be distracted, indulge in friends when I should be locked away in my room or some basement room with a dim light. Am I allowed to do that? Can I actually keep this part, be with these people?

Maybe not now, but I need to make a decision about that some day. I don't want to decide between my friends and my work. I can't accept that I'd ever have to make that decision...seems too cruel. Could I if I needed to? Would they understand? I'd have to go, and I think that's the path of inner destruction. Just a symbol that happens to be a person. Giving up everything else. It's cold, freezing, some black-ice cave that emminates pain, misery. Is this place what I want to be remembered by? Still, if I do what I need to here, isn't even that worthwhile?

How much am I willing to sacrifice for an ideal, something that's probably just an abstract delusion used to make up for some indefinable something? Absolutely everything. So then I keep asking myself, when is the cliff going to come up that I need jump off to prove my faith? Where's my lion's head?

I've had visions of this day, seeing things again and again. There was dread, dread at knowing every time when I'd be distracted, not being able to bypass it. I know somewhere I'll do fine today, but that doesn't comfort me. I can still feel the possibility, somewhere, somewhere in a time where I'm sitting at a table, screaming as everything falls away from me. Can you swan dive off a thought?

How would it feel to lose your true love through your hands like fine sand, being shunted by the wind to every direction? What if you sacrificed everything just to see it fly away? That's how it is inside: holding on to sand, and every little grain that falls between my fingers is like a pin prick on my eye.

So many this morning, little dots and tiny purple reminders. I need to keep going.

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