There Is No Spoon

Hi, I'm dumb. I thought I'd get that out of the way first, to clear up any confusion. Because, well, sometimes it's easy to forget that when I'm up to my neck in college textbooks: Ooh, look, so many pages and so many, many words; that must automatically make me very intelligent! Haha, what a lark.

You see, I don't really know when to call it quits. I can sit and reason to myself and diagram it all out on spreadsheets and flipcharts and posterboard, but that means nothing to me. Nothing. Spreadsheets and flipcharts and posterboard have one thing in common, and that is that they are Boring. Why should I listen to them, when they know nothing of intuition or of ambition or of hope. And so I don't. I think to myself, I can save the world; and I think to myself, I can change their mind; and I think to myself, I can get what I want.

Do you see the flaw in this? There is a very big flaw in this. The flaw is, I am an idiot. The flaw is, "I miss you" doesn't mean a whole lot. You're obliged to miss me, everyone is. You have to love puppies and miss Elizabeth, those are the rules; and if you do not follow the rules, you are shunned, an outcast, a pariah, a puppy kicker, a baby eater, a Beth Not Miss-er. "I miss you" is not shelter, not sprung from anyone, even though I know you mean it. It cannot tell me where to go, or how.

The flaw is, I cannot save the world.

And the flaw is, I cannot stop trying.