0. The scorecard (a short story)
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6.Max had always been fairly responsible, but as a true creative, consistency and follow-through were his weaknesses.
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7.Although he willed himself, he couldn't establish a consistent routine; at least he knew he had the freedom to do so any time he pleased.
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8.Most of his time was spent browsing the Internet, thinking, going for walks, cooking food, only writing every few days.
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9.As the months passed, Max started feeling that the goal he had invested his whole life in was slipping further and further away.
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10.Many times he attempted to get back on track. Succeeding for a few days, feeling better, then quickly slipping back into his old habits.
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11.He knew precisely what was wrong, and what he should do about it -or so he thought. For almost all of his thoughts now revolved around it
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12.To compensate, he isolated himself even more, berating and admonishing himself for wasting time on anything other than writing.
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13.He stopped seeing friends, stopped answering calls from his mother, stopped cleaning his apartment and grooming himself.
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14.He worked enough to be able to pay his bills and have a few dollars left each day for food. He was miserable in his freedom.
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15.Gradually, his existence consumed him with anxiety. A year had passed. He had made little progress, barely having written 50 pages.
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16.It was now summertime and as he didn't have any money saved for a vacation he took a sick leave from work and bought 5 bottles of vodka.
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17.For the next three days he mostly lied in bed; drunk, smoking, crying, the A/C cooling away the last sparks of will in his heart.
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18.The torment he experienced was indescribable. He kept repeating to himself like a mantra: "I give up. I give up. I give up".
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19.On the fourth day he woke up to something unusual: His mind was completely blank. He couldn't believe how serene he was.
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20.He could recall all the thoughts that tormented him so much yet he felt absolutely embodied and apart from them.
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21.He could only liken this state to the long-forgotten state of presence he used to be in constantly as a child.
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22.That night, he went out for a walk. He began thinking, but now his thoughts had a different quality to them.
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23.He didn't criticize or scrutinize them any longer, and they didn't object to him. They came as his breathing; to nourish and help.
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24.He knew everything would be OK. He didn't know why, but he knew that if he waited, he'd understand. And wait he did.
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25.As he made his way home that night, you could recognize him smiling every step of the way.
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26."Man, you look great. You look happy. I'm so happy to see it", his best friend Jack said as they walked through the autumn leaves.
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27."I thought we'd lost you there. What happened?", he asked. Max looked him in the eye and replied, "I stopped keeping score."
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28."What do you mean?", Jack asked. "I threw away the scorecard", Max said. "What's the scorecard?" Jack asked again.
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29.Journal Entry, July 17, 2017, Max's journal: (Song playing: The Beatles - I Am The Walrus)
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30."No one is keeping score but you. That scorecard only exists in imagination. Drop it. Forget it. It's making you sick.
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31.The scorecard is you keeping tabs on you. It's your own evaluation of yourself, in all of the aspects of your life.
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32.The scorecard is the equivalent of ego, your idea of yourself. It is your objectification of yourself, and the measure of that object.
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33.When that object fails to meet the standards and expectations you have of it, you feel the negative repercussions.
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34.A struggle against it begins, a struggle to make amends with your own self-loathing. An endless uphill battle.
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35.Yet no measure of success can appease the ego. There is always "more". There is always "better". And there is always "failure".
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