What if I can't?
What if it's not good enough?
What if I'm just nobody?
A sea of thoughts swirling today as I struggled to get pen to paper.
My essay is due tomorrow and I think it is finally finished. I have spent all week in what has felt like drawing blood from a stone. And these thoughts coming at me hard made me wonder whether there really was any point to it all. Wonder whether I'd be a good enough writer eventually to get published, even with all this work. If I ever found the guts to submit anything I thought was worth reading. I've voiced my dreams this year, and for the first time since I was twelve actually been proud of them.
Maybe the first step towards reaching those dreams is admitting them out loud?
And tonight I reminded myself that I was doing something worthwhile. That I was pursuing something that will take work, and effort and dedication.
And I have been proud of the work, and effort and dedication I have proven to myself I actually have if I put my mind to it.
My phlegmatic self was put to the test this week, and was conquered.
One teeny tiny step in the right direction.