2026.09

https://ddrkirbyisq.bandcamp.com/album/monthlies-202609

I always considered myself to be especially afraid of failure, to be risk-averse, to feel anxious and neurotic about things going wrong, to hate the feeling of letting others down. But then again, I feel like many people -- if not most -- share these traits. Perhaps there is variety in our defense mechanisms, in how we choose to integrate -- or not integrate -- failure into our lives. In what we decide to do about it for the next time.

What I realized, though, is that I don't have a clear idea in my mind of how I'd =like= to feel when I fail. I can't decide whether I want to be so confident in my self-worth that it doesn't bother me, or whether feeling crappy about yourself when you do poorly is simply a natural part of the human experience that ought not to be denied. It is really possible to detach ourselves, to give ourselves the benefit of the doubt? What is it like to assume -- wrongly -- that you are deserving of love simply for existing, no matter who you are or what you do?

They spout platitudes of how you ought to embrace failure, to push beyond your comfort zone, to feel vulnerability. But I have learned since long ago to be mistrustful of how others approach life. To decide for myself what the answers are. For me, everything must start from tranquility. Without the calm, there can be no growth. Without the silence, there can be no voice. And without safety, there can be no risk. I live life on my own terms, as I must. To change this is to lose life itself.

With each experience I build upon the foundation, becoming more and more sure of my path. I seek the way of life where I am judged for the whole of who I am, was, will be. This drawing is one of hundreds, the songs in the album among thousands. Each moment is a speck in my eternity, each setback a mere footfall in my path toward the compass of my past.