I used to be able to write even though I was angry. I used to be able to express myself. Anger fueled my words. But now my anger makes me choke on my words. Frustration and sadness have become the despicable noose that constricts all flow of words from me.
There's this fear in me that I'm growing stupider. Or that I am stupid. And that I've somehow convinced myself and others around me that I'm smarter than I really am. A lot of days I start questioning my ability to create even slightly creative sentences.
I'm scared. I'm absolutely terrified of not being able to achieve the things that I want. I'm scared out of my wits of the greatness of my needs. I read a quote that said "If your dreams don't scare you, then they're not big enough."
But what if my goals are too big? I can already hear people talking about how ridiculous I am. That I'm not good enough to achieve such things. That's why I don't tell people about them. The people around can only fathom how much I really want to do with my life. I'm scared shitless of disappointing them.
But, really. I am ridiculous for even thinking such things.
I'm scared of disappointing others, sure.
But the heaviest burden on my shoulder is the fear of disappointing myself. How the hell will I be able to live with myself at an older age if I don't even try.
So I will. I'll keep trying. And I'll keep trying even harder.
How the hell will I sleep at night if I know that I'm not even trying.
Regret is my biggest enemy.
