Ambition

“I am not enough. Me, in my current shape, size, accomplishments, who I am, as I am, right now, is never enough. I’m looking for more.”

– Meghana Kumar

 

I am ambition.

I’m quiet and I take walks with you on dusky, star-studded nights. I stay up late at night with you, and I’m the only one there for you when you feel like all is lost. I’m hope’s more sensible cousin. I am the friend that never leaves. I am the only one who can fix you when you’re deeply broken.

I am the architect in your head. Your life is my project. I spend most of my time sketching blueprints for the dreams you build. I stitch them together with to-do lists and packed schedules.

I am the plans in your head. I barely live in the present. My heart is stuck in the future. I only glimpse into reality to match it with the picture in our heads. If it doesn’t, I dive into the future and I dive into to-do lists all over again. I get high on the tick-marks of done tasks.  

I only work when you’re working. I’m broken, otherwise.

I don’t understand emotion. Well, if some of it manages to seep through my thick exoskeleton of logic, I categorize it, catalog it, and put it in concept shaped boxes.

I am selfish. It’s not that I don’t want to feel empathy, but I struggle to. I hardly ever think of anyone else but me. Anyone else, but us. I am narcissistic. There is nothing more I love than us. Me, ambition, and you, my work of art.

I am constantly looking for more things I could be. I am not enough. Me, in my current shape, size, accomplishments, who I am, as I am, right now, is never enough. I’m looking for more. I’m always looking for more we could be, and I see less in what we are. I have an unquenchable thirst for something I’m not.

Yet.

I can hardly sit still in my own skin. I’m anchored to the future where everything is right, and I’m taking you there with me.

You and I, we have a plan. Me, ambition, and you, as I see you for all that you can be. Us, we’re happy together. We’re the start of something new.

I am the fire in your heart. I am the candle that burns the midnight oil. I am the sunrise that you wake up to.

But suddenly, I’m not. You’re slipping away.

Suddenly, I am the disappointed voice of your father, your mother, that sister who looked up to you, that teacher who saw more in you that you did, and also that uncle who isn’t supposed to matter. I am the voice that judges you for hitting that snooze button. I die a little when you say you just don’t feel like it. It physically hurts me when you procrastinate. I’m slowly burning away, fading into oblivion when you watch your 5th consecutive episode of Will & Grace. I cry myself to sleep when you’re gulping your third shot of vodka. Who are you? I don’t know you anymore. I’m insecure; you’ve been choosing other things over me. You’re sick of Monday mornings, you’re sleeping in till noon, you hate your boss, nothing excites you, and I don’t know you anymore. I’m ambition, I don’t know you, and it looks like you don’t know me anymore either.

I’m upset, when you return. I thought we had something special. I throw a tantrum.

I throw things and anxiety at you. I spill drinks and anxiety all over the room. I paint pictures of the worst things that could happen to us. You don’t listen. I tear our pictures up and burn them. All the pictures, sketches of all the dreams we had, you and I, I burn them.

Me, ambition, and you, as beautiful as I see you to be. We’re meant to be. It doesn’t have to end like this.

We both stare at the ceiling, and we sit quietly, us, in disarray, our lives in disarray, we sit. We sit amidst the wreckage of our life spilled all around us. We’re quiet for a while. Then you admit you care. That’s all I need to know. I pick you up. And I pick up the fallen, broken pieces of our life and put it together, sticking the pieces with one sticky note at a time.

I am your lighthouse. I am your purpose. I am the destination you’re looking for. I am all the people who have ever believed in you. I am all that you deserve to be.

I make you feel useful. I make you push your limits, stretch your edges, and I sculpt you. I make you want to be a better person every day. And you’re proud of yourself for that.

I am ambition.

I fulfill you. I’m the only one who can.

But do I make you happy?

 

– Meghana Kumar

 



Catch the other side of the story on
Adventure


 

Cover designed by: Anshuman Das

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