It had taken me all week at work to complete a particular task. At at least three points I contemplated giving up, I felt like I was done, that there was no way to proceed.
But no, I pushed on and after meeting this same state of mind a few times I eventually completed the task. It was at this point that I looked back on what I had done, what had caused me to contemplate giving up so many times. The thing was that it had come down to a collection of small, even obvious fixes. What before that been achieving the nigh impossible as I navigated nebulous logic paths was now completely unimpressive.
So, why am I writing about it. Isn't life like this, my writing, my life, everything I've always done. Is it the limitations of my perception? My mind blowing things out of proportion or is it just a psychological thing, things seem impossible until you do them. Once you do them they're not worth anything at all.
One day I will look back and think nothing of what I had done, right now it all seems impossible. Truth comes only in those moments of victory, those brief flashes of satisfaction. Completing another section of a book, solving another problem at work, winning a fencing bout and maybe, one day, sorting out this life of mine.