“Dude, you’re so talented — you should go for it.”

I say this to one of my best friends, let’s call him “Mike,” all the time, when he’s feeling down.

Mike’s got the charisma of a golden retriever who drinks beer at a bar.

People love him, he’s funny, and he can’t help but attract a crowd.

Mike’s an actor, or at least he once was.

In his short career, he’s won awards, been written about in local newspapers, and constantly gets invited into creative projects by people he barely knows. And everyone knows someone who “wants to be an actor.” But for him? He’s got enough proof in the pudding, that it’s not a complete pipe dream.

It’s a possibility. 

And yet…

He’s nowhere close.

Not even in the neighborhood.

A typical day for him starts late, ends later, and is filled with half-built projects, vague ambitions, and enough procrastination to sink a small nation.

Why?

Because he doesn’t have the discipline to actually try or the emotional calluses to handle rejection.

But here’s the kicker:

My friend is also me.

And he’s also you.

Because we all have something we’re good at.

And we all get in our own way from being great.

 

Talent: The Best Blessing and the Worst Curse

Talent is both a blessing and a curse.

At least, that’s how I’ve always seen it.

The blessing is obvious: something comes easily to you.

It feels good to know you’re naturally good at something, and it’s only human to want to master a skill and be appreciated for what you excel at.

And honestly? You owe yourself that.

So where does this curse show up?

Well, the curse isn’t the talent itself.

The curse is the entitlement it breeds.

Because when you’re talented, it’s dangerously easy to believe you don’t have to work as hard.

That preparation is optional.

That training is something you don’t have to do.

And that’s how talent quietly screws you.

It teaches you the wrong lesson and makes you think you’ve already earned the result.

 

My Own Talented Idiot Story

Growing up, I had a freakishly good memory.

And to be fair, I still do.

I could read the textbook Thursday night, walk into the test Friday morning, and pull off an A or high B without breaking a sweat.

I’d see people, coffee in one hand, angst in the other cramming for finals and think, “Why? You only need an hour. Maybe two.” And I even get annoyed with my friends who crammed. It meant I couldn’t hang out with them.

Because studying came easily, I built a horrible habit that manifested in my real life.

Laziness.

Most of the time my attitude by default is:

“I’ll just wing it.”
“I’ll figure it out, no worries.”
“I’ve always pulled it off before. No need to stress.”

And that mindset has bitten me in the ass more times than I can apply hemorrhoid cream.

Because talent got me through school.

But it also made me lazy as hell.

And that’s a habit I still fight every single day. I have to force myself to be disciplined.

Because talent is a blessing, and it’s a curse.

But here’s the good news:  There’s a way to beat it.

 

Consistency: The Great Equalizer

You’ve heard the quote:

Hard work beats talent when talent doesn’t work hard.

And it’s cliché, but it’s true.

Take writers, for example.

A lot of people reading this are better writers than most “famous” writers online.

You have sharper ideas, fresher perspectives, and better instincts.

Some of you even write fiction — the real hard stuff.

But those writers you admire?

They’re not necessarily better.

They’re just consistent.

They sit down and do the tedious, unsexy work that talented people avoid like it’s a line at an airport.

However, the consistent people:

Feel the same fear.
Feel the same self-doubt.
And feel the same rejection.

But they keep going anyway.

That’s their superpower.

Not brilliance.
But endurance.

But here’s the blessing hidden inside all this:

If you’re talented — truly talented — then the moment you decide to be consistent, you will run circles around half the people you admire.

Because talent + consistency = everything you want.

 

The Shift: The Part Nobody Wants to Hear

At some point, you have to accept this:

Talent gives you a head start.
But consistency finishes the race.

You might be gifted enough to run faster.

But running every day actually improves the skill.

Talent doesn’t save you from discomfort.

It just whispers, “If you push through this, you’re probably going to win.”

As long as you run.

As long as you commit.

So lace up because the only person who can outrun their potential is you.

Please like, comment, share and tell me what you think!