Speaking to A this week, I realised that he echoed many of the sentiments and fears I had, and was perhaps more honest than I am with my friends about coming clean about my own mini "crises of self-doubt". Maybe, its partly because I do feel ashamed for failing one comp, and perhaps because I don't want to use it as a crutch or invoke pity from others.

Yet, I know there's only one direction to work in. And while I'm unsure if I have what it takes to make it, I hope that these efforts will pay off and that I can continue to dream and build dreams that perhaps only others that are more adequate should be dreaming of

in the mean time, I take heart in the poem below

"The North Star Whispers to The Blacksmith's Son"

--Vachel Lindsay

The North Star whispers: "You are one
Of those whose course no chance can change.
You blunder, but are not undone,
Your spirit-task is fixed and strange.

"When here you walk, a bloodless shade,
A singer all men else forget.
Your chants of hammer, forge and spade
Will move the prairie-village yet.

"That young, stiff-necked, reviling town
Beholds your fancies on her walls,
And paints them out or tears them down,
Or bars them from her feasting halls.

"Yet shall the fragments still remain;
Yet shall remain some watch-tower strong
That ivy-vines will not disdain,
Haunted and trembling with your song.

"Your flambeau in the dusk shall burn,
Flame high in storms, flame white and clear;
Your ghost in gleaming robes return
And burn a deathless incense here."