Skip to content

The Pretender

January 17, 2011

A lot of people I know agree that I should be doing more with my life; as a person full of talent, creativity, and intellect, I could easily get any job, place, or girlfriend I wanted to. If I so wished, I could revolutionize the world, get rid of world hunger, create a masterpiece, engineer perfection, or even become God myself. So why haven’t I done any of these things? Because none of it is good enough! I could become God himself, and still not be satisfied; to do everything there is to do in this world is to miss out on everything else, and my need to say and do and consume and experience, and to be everything– these overwhelmingly unfulfillable needs are in fact preventing me from doing anything with my life; because I know just how great my potential is, I cannot actualize it, being too concerned with nothing I do being good enough!

I am the pretender, because I am afraid of being real. Afraid, because I know my reality will never be good enough. Reality is too limited, and so I pretend so that I might be spared the dissatisfaction that comes with actually living life. I know that, regardless of what path I take, it will never be good enough. I also know that, by taking a path, I can no longer pretend; that I no longer pretend means I can no longer glaze over life’s risks as if they were mere data; while the pretender can see all of life’s wonders (good and bad) as mere data, one who takes life seriously must develop attachments to reality, and especially to the priorities relevant to his agenda; while the pretender has no attachments and can easily let go of anything and everything, the responsible adult must become dependent and integrated with his reality, and thus (unfortunately) vulnerable to it.

You can say that I am emotionally immature– that my refusal to integrate with, become attached and dependent on my reality– that this level of emotional irresponsibility is downright childish. You would be right, for emotionally I am a child. But I am also emotionally mature in other ways, in that I am able to control my emotions completely; that I can control and manipulate and make use of my emotions without limit is itself the product of profound emotional maturity. This is a paradox to which few but I have been exposed, and it has created much suffering for me; I am immature in that I am unwilling to live, but mature in that my stagnancy has made me emotionally invulnerable. This is of the curse and the karmic price that comes with being the pretender.

I could, if I wished, live a successful life, full of dreams and ambitious and love and passion and beauty. But because I already know that this would never be good enough, forever (or for now at least) I will remain the pretender.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: