Without Dreamland, I Crash....

How awful it is to know that you just suck. Even for musicians. Who according to Egan, seek to find fault, fix it and look for more, I am incapable of being a true musician. I am incapable of fixing it and producing new and improved beauty from what once was a sqeaky flaw. No matter how much I want to try Or I think I try. I instinctively hold back and when I give all thought I could, it falls short. It wasn't enough. I lack the fast fingers to run across the board, and the virtuoso arm to direct all of my emotion to the instrumment. I am just mediocre and I just don't physically fit the criteria. Do I even sit correctly? I can't play correctly. I feel the beat but it is randomly lost, and I lost any hope of the long run. That long run that stretches out far. Where at the end is the sign that says Congrats. "You don't suck at this anymore". "Now move on--isn't within my grasp. And I think I am musically incompetent, stylistically deficient, and so I cannot expect to build the mold of musician if it lacks the proper foundation". And that is the truth. Not that I care. Not that it's my career choice. Not that the 3rd grade dreams of playing in a symphony were ever destined to sprout into tangible possibilities. Not that my sister never doubted me anyway. Not that I never knew. But sometimes, I wish I did not know. Maybe I would go for that impossible long run if I didn't know I couldn't make it. And I would be happier living the lie.