A Cracked Pot

There are four things I’m really afraid of in life. Two of them are sort of normal, everyday phobias: heights and spiders. The other two are a bit more complicated: mediocrity and irrelevance.

The idea that I will go through life only achieving mediocre results, and that my contributions to this world will be irrelevant, scares the crap out of me.

I’d rather fail miserably than achieve mediocre results. At least with failure you learn things and figure out how to do better next time. Mediocrity is dangerous; it’s the status quo. It’s easy to maintain mediocrity. It’s comfortable, like your favorite sweater. Mediocrity is getting by, and as long as you’re getting by, it’s hard to muster the extra effort to do great things.

The idea that everything I do in life will be irrelevant in the grand scheme of things leaves me feeling hollow and empty inside. The thought that my opinions are irrelevant, that the things I do and say and think and believe aren’t important, scares the living hell out of me. I want to be important. Does that make me a snob? Probably. Do I care? Not a bit. I have no problem with elitism when it’s deserved.

If I’m mediocre, what’s the point? Anyone can be mediocre at pretty much anything given enough time and practice. I want to excel at things. I want to be great. If mediocrity is the best I can do, I’d rather just sit on my ass and do nothing. I’d rather just give up.

I guess what scares me the most about mediocrity and irrelevance is the idea that when I’m gone, when I die, I won’t be remembered or missed by anyone other than my very closest friends and my family. And once they’re gone, I’ll be forgotten forever. And I guess that scares me more than anything.