The Expectation Complex

I'm better than them. They are weighted by their doubts, like anchors to the bottom of the sea. I have no doubts, for I've seen the surface of the Universe and understand the purest meaning of life. It speaks to me in ways they couldn't possibly conceive, in a language foreign to their virgin ears.

I expect to be the best at whatever I do. If I'm not the best, then I suspect that with practice I will be. I'm extraordinary, not ordinary. To be not best is to conclude that I'm not free, that I need them. I cannot need them, for that would imply that they need me. This is the definition of whole-life-imprisonment.

I should be free.

How should I expect to know the right way to live if I cannot act on my own impulses? I did not choose them, they chose me. It is easy to conclude that I should act upon them, otherwise, why do they exist? Freedom is existence, and I exist, so should be free. Therefore, I should be the best.

If I am insufficient, clearly not the best, then I must practice with rigor until I am. To do otherwise is to choose imprisonment. And if in such practice, I find other expectations that must be met, then I must meet those as well. So forth all the way down to the smallest expectation which I can definitely meet, moving up to the harder ones.

This is why I write 20,000 words every day. I'm not the best writer, and until I am I cannot be free. So I spend every moment from when I awake until when I sleep writing.

In the name of freedom.