Expectations

Expectations are dreadful things.

You don't begin with expectations, or maybe you do, we wouldn't know.

My point is that expectations are usually created in you.

They are created slowly, gradually but definitely through repeated positive actions that make you expect more.

Because each time a smaller expectation is fulfilled, a bigger expectation is created. Not consciously. You may not even realize it until the said subject fails to fulfill that unexpressed expectation, and you feel disappointed.

Disappointment is a terrible, terrible thing. Even more so than expectations.

Logically, neither expectations nor disappointment can actually be fully justified. (I would go as far as to call them unwarranted emotions, but I still do feel them from time to time.)

So how are expectations created? Like I say, it begins with a small expectation.

Creation and Ultimate Destruction of Expectations (click to enlarge, I drew it!)

To summarize the drawing, the fulfillment of a smaller expectation leads to the creation of a greater expectation.

Por ejemplo, you score 60 marks in a test. Your parents say it is pretty good (says no parent ever in real life, but this is make believe), but now they want you to improve to 70. And you did. The next test you would need to score 80 to fulfill their expectation or you will be termed "stagnation". That is the creation of expectations at work.

Anyways, my main point here is to not let yourself fall into the trap of expecting or hoping excessively.

Also, it would be wise to occasionally lower other's expectations of yourself by screwing up.

Like, what I am doing now.

You are probably expecting a really cool post, but it is actually kinda screwed up.

Heh.

In the

In The

In the recesses of my mind, I think about you.

Not once, or twice. Multiple times.

In the vague moments before sleep, I dream about you.

The prodding of dreams tell the truth.

In the spaces of my heartbeats, I miss you more.

The palpitations tell me that I am incomplete.

In the pauses between my breathing, I love you.

Then it resumes, and I am once more normal.

(50 second poetry: yep, it is probably poorly written because it took me less than a minute to write it)

This is how...

This is how I learn to be independent
In the accumulated moments that you didn't care.

This is how I grow used to isolation
When I don't have you around for company.

This is how I grew up
When I call and the dial tone rings then dies

This is how much I need you
And only to realize that you don't need me back.

This is how I stopped believing,
When promises are mere words spoken and forgotten.

This is how I forget,
When there is nothing enough to remember.

This is how we all fall apart,
When I am always here but you are never there.

Inferior

Inferiority. You don't feel it all the time, just like how you don't feel sad or under-accomplished all the time.

It strikes you at the moments you least expect it to.

The effects are lingering and pervasive.

It makes you question the validity of your existence, and the basis of your daily confidence.

It makes you wonder about the things you don't usually ponder, and look twice into the mirror and still think to yourself, "I am not good enough."

It makes you afraid of meeting another: could they see the fear behind your mask of certainty; the tremor behind your beams; the insecurity behind your straightened back and relaxed shoulders?

It makes you think less of yourself (than you already do).

It makes you wonder if you should indulge or skip the next meal. It makes you vulnerable to the views of other people that should have never mattered. It makes you consider criticism (that may or may not be valid), and agree with them, because in the depth of your consciousness, these are the same criticisms that secretly haunt you in your dreams.

Inferiority. It makes you question why you are loved and worry about the sustainability of that love.

Why?

Because in the abyss of momentary inferiority, you are never enough.

Inferiority. We keep it at bay with our conscious logical minds and we strut confidently in our amours of sanity and reassurances. Yet it creeps in every now and then, like slow acting toxins, its effects insidious and damaging.

Inferiority doesn't strike me that often.

But when it does, I am nobody.