WASTED POTENTIAL

[garentoft 8354]

WASTED POTENTIAL

 

Eirik Baruch, circa 392 E.S.

 

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Potential is a rare thing in the world, it is few men that are born with not only the potential, but the opportunity to put themselves into a position to change the world for the better. But potential, much as it is a blessing, comes with its own curse.

 

His eyes were groggy, it was another morning of Tov and Yermey. He wasn’t quite sure of the date, those had been deemed irrelevant in his mind long ago. There were no days, nor nights, there was only the passing of time, the primary thing he partook in these days. Days? No, it was not days, nor was it months, it had been years he had been down this road. He had scarcely left his room over the past five or six years, if he recalled correctly, though such a guess may be as off as he felt.

 

For you see, those that have immense potential often fall to one of two fates. They, the lucky ones, are able to live up to their full potential, and achieve the great things that they imagine in their minds. And then there are the majority, those who fail to live up to their true potential, cursed to dream of grand things that they could have achieved, but never did.

 

Nevertheless, today had been a day that was marked in his calendar. His cousin, Kaustantin, was to be inaugurated as Lord Palatine on this day. He didn’t bother much to make a presence of himself, he spared a bath for later (he’d much prefer to take a long one with the company of a book), and threw on his regular outfit, hat misaligned upon his messy hair. He scrambled his way to his stables, and climbed onto his horse, which he had not bothered to name.

 

Then there comes a pivotal moment in the life of those with great potential, the moment of self-realisation, of the path that one is forging ahead one. They sit and ponder, what is going to become of me? Those who see that they shall live up to their potential count their blessings, and those who see that they shall waste their potential become desperate.

 

He did not remember anything of the trip to Karosgrad from Valwyck, not even the scenery, and the road which he travelled so frequently when he was younger was also distant. His mind dwelt on the mess of books that were left on his desk, history books, philosophical essays, much more. He had spent these years delving into the annals of history, surrounding himself in knowledge in the hope that he would get him somewhere.

 

The desperation of wasted potential is a horrid thing to witness. They sink into their depressed shells, seeking desperately for anything that would be able to carry them through life, any glimmer of hope that they may become something. But the desperation only causes one to spiral into the void, and hope becomes an even more distant line as one progresses.

 

But today served as a stark reminder, that while he had been at home, studying and going nowhere, endlessly in a loop of attempting to attain knowledge, Kaustantin had been out in the world, he had grown and he had accomplished. Twenty-two years of age, Kaustantin was the Lord Palatine of Haense. He had been a successful ward, and an accomplished man. And here was Eirik, sixteen years of age, and no one barely ever saw him.

 

But in that desperation, in that glimmer of hope. That is where we find the luckiest of them all, those who possess the determination to reach out with hand, and wrap their fingers around that shining light of hope, and pull it into themselves, to become one with their hope, to move past their desperation, to once more return to the path of accomplishment.

 

The rest of the day had been uneventful. He did not make an effort to recall any of it, he simply returned home to proceed with his reading, though as he sat there the awful feeling could not be repressed. Kaustantin had been out in the world, and he had accomplished. Eirik had been a much more prudent student, and he had accomplished nothing.

 

That night, the sound of a desk being toppled over, accompanied by an agonizing scream, was heard from the chambers of the future Duke of Valwyck.

[Drew2_dude 2130]

Andrik Jan Baruch would wake from his slumber in a fit of rage at the yelling coming from Eirik's room, he'd bust down Eirik's door and scream, "OI, KEEP SCREACHIN' 'N AH'LL TIE YE TO THE BOW OF ME SHIP, 'N FEED YE TO THE BLOODY AYRIAN WHALES AS BAIT!!!!" @Gusano

[MotherLay 815]

Marjorie Baruch pushes her way into Eirik’s bedroom as she hears the screeching. She plucks a piece of wrapped candy from her pocket, offering it to him. 

“Sugar always made me feel better,”