Do we all possess this core, I wonder. An unnamed force wrapped tightly within and feeling so badly as though it wants to stretch and push away the walls built around it. Our…potential. It feels much like greatness, bottled up tightly in a container ill-suited. Perhaps we all feel it, but we remain quiet lest we leave a foolish and vain impression on others?
Those that tap into the potential threatening against human confinements, they are the great ones. Or do only the great ones sense that something more within? I cannot believe I’m special. I think we all have that untapped potential. And yet…I am so keenly aware of the power that itches for a way out, a release. Even before this curse I felt it. It only becomes harder to contain.
Greatness does not bring with it promises of wealth and comfort. Some forms are destructive. That force stretches, pushing harder at my walls now. That power…the potential. It excites me, stealing breath and keeling head-first into fear. It begs for release. I dare not answer. I place my hands over my ears and ignore the knocking. I soothe its edges with promises that everyone feels it and there is really nothing there to answer.
I am a weak vessel, you see. If just one wing of potential stretches, I fear I cannot stop it, and I will shatter as it finally finds its way out of my carefully crafted prison. And so I tell myself everyone feels that core; the vanity in human nature. I force myself to look at my people and see. They are in control of it. I am in control of it.
And yet, the wild ones, together with human depravity, haunt my imagination.
– L. E. Rowle
(Random journal entry by my worgen druid, Lellian Rowle, in World of Warcraft)