Everyone in my family was born with various talents yet not one of them managed to actually build something out of it. Not because of lack of skill. They decided to stay mediocre dreamers complaining about their lives, shifting off guilt. It never was their fault that they brought it to nothing. It was the system, other people ("l'enfer, c'est les autres", remember?) or some invisible, evil force that decided to cross their plans.
So all of them died and will die with empty pockets and empty hearts.
I don't pity them for it was their own choice as it is everyone's choice what they do with their lives.
And I don't pity myself for being a fool for so long. I could follow the path so many feet treaded before me... and I would end up either as a drunkard or a lunatic. Not that I would be the first.

The only difficulty standing in my way is... me. It is always myself creating problems.

When I took a look at my gallery I saw nothing but mediocrity or even worse. That I don't live up to what I have. I do have talent and I do have a heart to put into my works. And skill? I can always work on it.
Why in Lucifer's name do I act like a blind lunatic that was given crayons then?

Because mediocrity is so easily explained away... "getting rid of stress", "my style", "comfortable".

So I build an emotional pyre long overdue and burn away all those excuses.
It is like cleaning a greasy, black window just to discover what beautiful flames are burning behind it. And you can be sure that it's a fire only worthy to that of Hell that burns in me.