The Perils of Getting Feedback

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No way. Just. No way. I can’t do it. It’s not ready. Who am I even kidding? It will never be ready. I never should’ve put myself in this position. I’m not equipped for this. Ever since the incident I just haven’t had the strength to take a beating. And this is going to be a beating. Oh yes. He’s going to saw me in half. Rip me apart. Gut me like a fish. And he’ll do it with sympathetic eyes, feeling sorry for me while he brings my hopes and aspirations to a fall. “Yes, I’m sorry, I think you’re a nice guy and there are some good ideas in here,” he’ll explain, “But this just won’t cut it. I’m sorry it got this far.” And I’ll feel the chill down my back and get that odd crisis sensation were you suddenly feel like you’re in a bubble or looking at the world through a fisheye. Actually, I can feel it now a little. I suppose I might as well get used to it.

Jesus, what am I going to do?! The unemployment benefits won’t cover the rent. And the car. And the insurance. And all that organic food we insist on buying. Louisa still doesn’t have a steady cash flow, so she won’t be able to carry us through. In the end we’ll have to move. To some shitty suburb. I hate the suburbs. The suburbs were the birthplace of the incident. And what about the kids? They’ll have to move for the third time in just a few years. For all my aspirations to the contrary, I’ll end up being a shitty dad. I’ll see them less, I’m sure. The ex will seize the opportunity to manoeuvre me into a sidetrack in the kids’ life. It will be hard to avoid another incident. I might as well start eating the pills again already.

Maybe I could wiggle my way out of it? Maybe, if I could show my text to some people that don’t know how to do what I’m trying to do, and they won’t notice the obvious flaws? They won’t notice the fact that my writing is shit. That my method is inconsistent. That I have probably misunderstood the theory that I’m using. Goddamnit. I really have to hope they have an offday. But then what would I do with the thesis? I can’t hide that. I guess it’s best just to get it over with. That’ll give me more time to find something else to do. I guess I could keep the money flowing for quite a long time, before anyone would notice that I wasn’t writing.

Shit. I’m going insane. But it just seems so evident now that I’ve somehow managed to fool everyone up until this point. They say such nice things to me. But when they read this, they’ll know. They’ll know it was all fake. They’ll know that I have been gaming the system. Fooling them – all along. It’s hard to believe that they are all actually that gullible. But it’s the only explanation. I’m so clearly in over my head. The other day one of them told me that he thought of me as an excellent philosophical thinker. Sure, he was drunk. But man. It made me happy and sorry for him all at once.

No. I can’t postpone it any longer. The time has come to unveil the goblin. The ruse had to be exposed at some point. And this is it. It’s now. I’ll click send and stare into the abyss. Nothing left now but to wait for the impending doom.



Movin’ back to the suburbs.
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