[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":82},["ShallowReactive",2],{"post-good-enough":3},{"id":4,"title":5,"body":6,"categories":71,"date":72,"description":12,"extension":73,"image":74,"meta":75,"navigation":76,"path":77,"seo":78,"stem":79,"tags":80,"__hash__":81},"blog\u002Fblog\u002Fgood-enough.md","good enough",{"type":7,"value":8,"toc":67},"minimark",[9,13,16,19,22,25,28,31,34,37,40,43,46,49,52,55,58,61,64],[10,11,12],"p",{},"I had a dream that I wasn’t good enough. That the world was mocking my confidence with stunned silence. I was an amateur juggler in a room full of octopi. Anyone could do what I do.",[10,14,15],{},"I had a dream that I was chained to a mountain, and trying to pull. Not to break free, but to drag the mountain. I would stretch, dig, and strain. I could catch my breath, getting a running start, and feel the end of my leash yank against my ankles. Shackled to a sinking feeling.",[10,17,18],{},"I woke like a coal miner pulled from a pile of rubble. Light stung my cheeks and shot blood into my eyes. There were no cheering crowds. No anxious reporters to hear my tale. No one noticed I had survived. My ears rang from the emptiness of the room.",[10,20,21],{},"Somewhere deep in my stomach lies another cave. Deep in that cave is another me. Trapped in a hollow shaft, and scraping against the walls to find a way out. Every shift of the earth around sends a sharp panic. Searching for a beam of light — proof that hope is not an illusion.",[10,23,24],{},"Somewhere in my chest a soldier waits. Malnourished, dehydrated, and scared. The training didn’t prepare him for the boredom. After the gauntlet of preparation, the battles seem like a game. Bombs sound like fireworks. He didn’t come here to wrestle, and maybe that is exactly the problem.",[10,26,27],{},"Somewhere in my throat is a singer. Hungover, abusive, and alone. He stands on a stage in a room full of empty seats, and warms up with a glass of bourbon and a smoke. Stage lights burn as hot as ever. A rubber cable might as well be a tree root under his feet. He shifts, feeling for flat ground, keeping eyes on the back of the room like a pro.",[10,29,30],{},"Somewhere in my head is a scientist. Buried beneath my inner ear. His lab is a steel bunker adorned with fear, guilt, and doubt. Beakers boil over with synthetic evidence of failure, as if the real thing is too diluted to measure.",[10,32,33],{},"My habits betray my urgency. My hope is gagged and hog-tied beneath the table. There is a nagging suspicion that the best is behind me, and that all that I have left is watching the credits roll.",[10,35,36],{},"I had a dream that I wasn’t good enough. Then a voice broke through the noise. As the ringing in my ears pulse out like an emergency warning system, a single chirp soars over the tone. Melody trumps monotony. A three-note symphony of joy.",[10,38,39],{},"“So now what?” goes the song. “To die, or to run?”",[10,41,42],{},"The question is another form of mockery. A sarcastic response to desperation. “Good enough for what?”",[10,44,45],{},"As the soldier cleans his rifle, a roach is murdered by his shoe. “Not even close” he grunts.",[10,47,48],{},"As the singer belts a bar of blues, the sound man hits record. “Never gonna get this raw in a room full of chatty Cathy’s…”",[10,50,51],{},"As the scientist pours himself another bottle of bathroom gin, a culture evolves in a dish behind him.",[10,53,54],{},"“Child’s play. Paper volcanoes on a folding table.”",[10,56,57],{},"I had a dream I wasn’t good enough. Then I looked down in my hand and saw a number. I am no longer last in line. Not yet called, but so ready, I’m bored.",[10,59,60],{},"I am a miner. Spending my last remaining molecules of oxygen moving one more rock — after another. I remember what light feels like. It’s warm against my skin. I can smell open air. I can hear the chirp of freedom.",[10,62,63],{},"There are mountains yet to drag. And if not me, then who? Every stone knocked loose is one less to carry. Every step another proof that my strength isn’t gone.",[10,65,66],{},"Life is not a marathon, nor a sprint. It’s a calculated count down to a feeling that you’re too late. I, for one, refuse to be.",{"title":68,"searchDepth":69,"depth":69,"links":70},"",2,[],[],"2016-09-22","md","\u002Fuploads\u002Fblog\u002Fgood-enough.webp",{},true,"\u002Fblog\u002Fgood-enough",{"title":5,"description":12},"blog\u002Fgood-enough",[],"Vy3r8ZjJpxXRKVlXkjHB-m35HKL6mUAGPFDVUxiBiM0",1794155215246]